


Beginner's Luck

by Corinna



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Dom Kurt, Dom/sub, M/M, NYADA, References to Shakespeare, Romantic Comedy, Sub Blaine, secondary Sam Evans/Mercedes Jones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-16 21:36:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2285283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corinna/pseuds/Corinna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>D/s AU. At NYADA, he’s Blaine, a high-achieving student with lots of friends. At his part-time job, he’s Devon, professional sub at a clinic for doms. Kurt meets them both, but only falls for one.</p><p>Based on <a href="http://glee-kink-meme.livejournal.com/48822.html?thread=62859702#t62859702">this</a> GKM prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tremendous thanks to my beta-readers and porn-enablers pene and Wowbright.

When it started, Blaine wasn’t even supposed to be at work at all.

He’d finished his last session for the day, and he had dance class back at NYADA at four, so he still had to shower and change and have a mid-afternoon snack before he walked back over to campus. But he’d started talking with Greg and Silas in the subs’ lounge and he’d lost track of time. All the guys were so funny and kind, with none of the competitiveness or drama of the people he met at school. He’d taken this job because the hours were flexible and he liked getting to help people, but sometimes he thought the best part was getting to shoot the breeze in the  lounge after sessions. Which was where Bruno found him.

“Got a walk-in,” he said gruffly from the doorway. Bruno was a big burly dom, one of the aides specifically there to make sure none of the clients overstepped their bounds. Maybe because he was the toughest-looking dom in the clinic, he was also the most careful about maintaining propriety. He never ventured into the lounge without a specific invitation, not even when the door was open. “The boss wants Devon for it, if you’re free.”

“Me?” Blaine frowned.

Bruno shrugged. “Should be an easy one. Guess you’re due.”

Blaine had had a bad session the week before; a dom who’d been standoffish and ticcy in the intake interview had turned dangerously violent during the session. Bruno had needed to intervene — a first for Blaine — and the dom had been taken to a hospital for psychiatric evaluation. Blaine had shaken the incident off, but it was good to know that Maura, who did all the scheduling, wanted to make it up to him.

Blaine checked his watch: one-thirty. Plenty of time to do a session and still make it back to school for class. “Sure. I can do it.”

On his way out the door, he grabbed one of the adhesive eye masks the subs had to wear during sessions. It didn’t do all that much to disguise his appearance, but Blaine figured it was mostly about the spirit of the thing. The mask and the shapeless beige uniform he wore were reminders to both him and the client that this was a clinical intervention, not a personal relationship.

“So, what’s the scoop?” he asked as Bruno walked him downstairs to the floor filled with treatment rooms. He wondered if it was another widower. They never wanted anything more than the minimum they needed to stave off the sickness, and Blaine liked working with them because he knew he was really helping.

“It’s a kid. That’s why Maura wanted you for it.”

“A kid?” Blaine had a weird moment of imagining a little boy, sweaty with the sickness.

Bruno nodded. “College kid, like you. Late bloomer. It happens. Not so much as it used to, with all the chemicals and shit they put in the food now, but it does. Kid got his mark at sixteen, already a little late, right, but from what I could tell from the paperwork, the hormones didn’t fully kick in. Now they have.”

Bruno thrust the papers into Blaine’s hand, and he reviewed them quickly. Healthy, nineteen year old gay male, extreme late-stage sickness. Referred by his school’s health services office. No personally identifying information, as usual, only an ID code: K0412.

“Kid’s pretty freaked out by the whole thing,” Bruno continued. “Maura thought someone his own age would make him more comfortable, and you’re the youngest guy we’ve got.”

For a moment, Blaine let himself regret the fantasy he’d constructed when Bruno summoned him out of the lounge — the knowledgeable older dom who’d need to maybe paddle Blaine a little and let himself be comforted as he mourned his lost beloved. But this kid sounded like he really needed help, and Blaine was the one to give it to him. He affixed the mask to his face and went into the treatment room.

They’d put client K0412 in the plainest and smallest of the treatment rooms: white walls, industrial carpeting, no windows. There was a large armchair, a paddling bench, a set of manacles on the wall, some throw pillows on the floor. Most of the toys and supplies were stored in deep white drawers built into the wall. It was as neutral and unremarkable a space as the clinic had to offer. But the client — Blaine’s dom for the next hour — was sitting on the floor, as far away from all of it as he could get. He was backed up against the far wall, his arms wrapped around his knees. His head was down and he was trembling. Blaine had been working at the clinic for over four months, and he’d seen a lot, but he’d never seen anyone in such bad shape.

“Hi,” Blaine said softly as Bruno shut the door behind him. “My name is Devon. My safewords are yellow and red. How may I serve you?” It was a rote phrase, something he said at the start of every session, and it was reassuring at least for him to start with something familiar.

The client didn’t even look up. “You can go away.”

Blaine blinked in surprise. “I... I can’t do that, sir. You’re not well, and you need me. I couldn’t bear it if I left you here like this when I can help.”

“No.” The client’s voice was low and shaky. “No. I’ll hurt you.”

In his current state, the client didn’t look capable of lifting the clinic’s lightest flogger, let alone using it.

“Sir, no. I promise. You won’t do anything to me that I’m not comfortable with.” He walked closer to where the client sat, and squatted so they’d be eye to eye if Blaine ever got him to look up. “If you want, I can have the guard come in...?” Blaine didn’t think this dom was so far gone that he’d ignore a safeword, but he’d try whatever it took to make him comfortable.

The client shrunk even further into himself. “No. No. It’s too humiliating having anyone see me like this. No one else.”

“I can help you get better,” Blaine said, a little insistent. “You don’t have to be sick anymore.”

The client looked up. A lock of his light brown hair fell across his forehead as he raised his head. “I have these dreams now and there’s — he keeps saying no but I don’t stop, and — it’s _awful_.”

In his high school years, Blaine had heard doms talk about the vivid dreams they had when their dominance hormones kicked in. He’d always thought it was so much over-exaggerated bullshit; it wasn’t like he hadn’t had some sex dreams he wasn’t ready for at first too. But the open fear in this young man’s eyes made him think that maybe he’d been unfair.

“It’s okay,” Blaine said. “Nothing bad is going to happen here. I promise. We could start slow. Maybe you could hold me down or something?”

The client took a deep breath. “Would you want that?” For the first time, he seemed intrigued.

Blaine smiled. “Yeah. Please, sir.” He stood up and headed over to the pile of throw pillows on the floor. They would be much more comfortable than getting pressed down into the carpet. But when he turned around, the client hadn’t moved; he was still sitting there, watching, with his blue-green eyes wide and worried. Blaine did some quick recalculation.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay. How about, you could sit in the chair, and I’ll kneel, and you could just hold me there?” It was barely domination at all; Blaine wasn’t sure it would be enough for a client this sick. But the client nodded, and started to push himself up to his feet.

It wasn’t the kind of thing Blaine usually said about doms, but this guy was beautiful: pale and lean and graceful even as he was obviously having trouble holding himself up. He had delicate features, but there was a strength and determination to him that was compelling. Blaine knew that his job as a clinic assistant was to provide non-sexual submission to doms who needed the release, and he never minded if they were old, or different looking, or whatever. But he had almost forgotten what it was like to submit to a man he actually found physically attractive.

Blaine waited until the client settled himself into the armchair before he walked over to stand in front of him. He looked down, not challenging but curious.

“Aren’t you going to kneel?” said the client.

Blaine tilted his head and studied the client carefully. He still looked scared, but now he looked interested too. Maybe Blaine could push him, just a little bit. “Do you want me to, sir?”

“Yes.” He sounded certain and uncertain, all at once.

“Will you order me to kneel, sir?”

The client swallowed hard at that. “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name already.”

“It’s B-Devon, sir.” Blaine caught himself in the nick of time. Using his middle name was an important part of keeping this impersonal for him; usually, it wasn’t hard to remember.

“All right.” The client paused, like he was steeling himself for it, and then said “ Kneel for me, Devon.”

Blaine lowered himself to his knees in a single smooth gesture; it was a hard thing to do, and he knew it looked impressive. The client swallowed again, and his legs fell open a little, unconsciously. Blaine moved closer to kneel between them. He placed his forearms on the chair’s arms, palms up, and waited.

“Are you comfortable?” the client asked. He sounded concerned, but a little more certain. Blaine nodded, not wanting to break the moment. “Okay. Good. I’m — I’m going to restrain you now.”

Deliberately, he placed his hands on Blaine’s elbows, and lowered his arms onto Blaine’s. It wasn’t much of a restraint, but the weight of it was nice. When the client pressed down a little, Blaine let his eyes flutter closed and his head bow. The stillness of it, and the effects of being held down, were working on him, and he figured that meant they were helping the client too.  

The client shifted in his chair, and then one of his hands was on the back of Blaine’s neck, squeezing a little. Blaine flinched out of reflex and surprise, but it also felt surprisingly good. He couldn’t remember anyone doing that before. It was such a small gesture, but it made him feel so much: taken, and kept, and held. He whimpered with it, wanting more.

“Are you okay?” the client asked.

“Green,” Blaine said quickly, and he hadn’t told the client about that, had he? “Green is —”

“Green means go, yes,” the client said. “I figured that out.” His voice was steadier, and he even sounded a little amused.

He tightened his grip, and Blaine whined helplessly at it, pain and pleasure and the rush of submission.

“God,” the client breathed. “You like this. You _like_ this.”

“Sir,” he managed. “ _Please_.” And then everything went fuzzy, and he was lost to it.

He came back to himself again with his head resting on the client’s knee, and the client’s hand in his hair. His wrists were tied together, and the client was holding them gently against his other leg. Blaine blinked.

“Are you okay?” asked the client. “You kind of spaced out on me at the end there, but you seemed fine, so...”

“Um.” Blaine couldn't remember the last time he went under so deep, from so little. “Sure.” He blinked again hard and straightened up, sitting back on his heels. He needed to shake it off. He had a job to do. “That was subspace. It’s a good thing.”

“That was subspace? Oh.” The client’s eyes widened. “Oh! You need some water, or some juice, right? I don’t have anything.”

Blaine didn’t want to smile, because he didn’t want the client to think he was being condescending, but it was hard not to: he was touched by the concern. “If you go to the drawers, there’s some there.” The client carefully stood and walked over to the wall of drawers, and Blaine directed him to the aftercare supplies. The client brought back a juice box and a wrapped piece of dark chocolate, and Blaine took them gratefully, if awkwardly, in his still-bound hands. “Maybe you could untie me?”

“Right.” The client blushed a furious red, and leaned over to examine his own handiwork. He’d used his necktie and the knots had tightened through use. “Hold on. This may take a minute.”

Blaine unwrapped the small square of chocolate and let it melt in his mouth while the client worked. He could feel it already softening the shift back to reality. The client hmmmed to himself and picked harder at the fabric.

“I guess you haven’t really had to use your knot skills since Dom Ed,” Blaine said. He’d meant it to be kind, a way of showing that he didn’t mind the wait, but it made the client’s face go still and unreadable, so he knew it was a mistake.

“Dom Ed at my high school was a joke,” the client told him. “The head cheerleading coach taught it, and she mostly spent the time lecturing us on her theories about local politics and interpersonal relationships. No practical information, unless you count how to do a burpee.”

Blaine frowned. That sounded awful, and a universe away from the upbeat, informational Sub Ed classes he’d taken at Dalton. No wonder the client had been so freaked out. “That’s terrible. You should know some basic things -- it’ll give you confidence when you’re ready to take a sub for real.” He wished there was something he could do, until he remembered that there was. “I have an old Dom Ed textbook, a pretty good one.” If you could ignore Cooper’s drawings in the margins, that was. Blaine had referred to it a lot when he first started at the clinic. “If you want, I could leave it at the front desk for you, if you promise to bring it back.”

The client had managed to loosen one of the knots, and was working on the second. “So I couldn’t — if I came back, I couldn’t ask for you again?”

“Oh.” Of course it made sense that the client wasn’t ready to go find a sub on his own yet: most of their clients required multiple visits. Blaine hadn’t thought about what that might mean, though. “No, of course, if you wanted, you could do that too. But you don’t have to.”

“I’d like to,” said the client. His eyes were on his work, and his face was unreadable. “If that’s okay with you.” When Blaine nodded, he said, “Thank you. Do I ask for Devon?”

“That should be enough,” Blaine said. He’d never had someone ask for him specifically before, at least not that he knew of.

The second knot loosened and his hands came free. Blaine flapped them around a little to make sure the circulation was okay before he opened the juice box and started drinking.

“Devon,” the client repeated. “Okay. Well, thank you, Devon.”

Sometimes coming down after a session was tough, but despite how strongly he’d reacted to having his neck held, Blaine felt really good. Warm, and loose-limbed, and satisfied. It was nice. “Thank you, sir.”

“Kurt,” said the client. “My name’s Kurt.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Kurt!” Rachel’s vocal training made her an impressive shouter when she wanted to be. “Kurt! It’s eleven-thirty. Have you even left your bed today?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes,” Kurt said. He pushed back the curtain to his room with a possibly too-dramatic flourish. He was fully dressed and his hair was combed back and he mostly felt like himself again. Rachel nearly gasped when she saw him.

“Kurt! You’re _better_! I am so happy for you, and not just because I was concerned I might also catch the flu and have to miss important rehearsals. It’s so wonderful to see you up and around again.”

“Thank you, Rachel.” When the sickness got bad, she’d thought he had the flu, and when he realized what it actually was, he was too embarrassed to correct her. He’d waited until she went off to class before he pulled out the emergency credit card, got a cab, and delivered himself to NYADA’s Health Services office. He’d thought maybe they’d have a shot or a pill he could take; he remembered vaguely hearing about that once on the local news. But they’d sent him to the dominants’ care clinic instead, and he’d been too weak to resist it.

It hadn’t been anywhere near as awful as he thought it would be, some sort of fetid dungeon full of subs who had nowhere else to go. It was a clinic, just like the name said, and it was cheerfully bland and beige and unthreatening. The woman at the front desk took his information, and if she was surprised by his condition or his age, she didn’t let it show at all. The room they’d put him in was pleasant, unexceptional, fine, if he didn’t think about why he was there. And then the boy they’d sent in...

Kurt knew, logically, that the first time a submissive knelt for him would have been memorable no matter what, just because it was the first time. But Devon had been extraordinary. He’d been so kind and thoughtful, so concerned that Kurt should have a good experience. He’d pushed Kurt just enough, just so he had to truly be dominant, but not so much that Kurt was afraid he couldn’t control his own reaction.

Kurt’s head had been full of fiery images of dominance for weeks, of boys bound and gagged and weeping while Kurt — well, it got a little fuzzy after that, but it was unsettling, whatever it was. But being with Devon wasn’t unsettling at all: in fact, it felt really good. Kurt had held him by the neck because it was something he wanted to try that he didn’t think would be too painful. He hadn’t expected Devon to like it so much. The reaction had made him feel stronger and more confident, and he’d wanted more.

He’d tied Devon’s hands together to make it easier to hold him in place, using his own necktie to do it. (Later, he’d realized the clinic had all those supplies in the drawers along the walls, ropes and restraints and the like, but in the moment, he’d just used what he had.) Devon had looked up at him in a hazy admiration, like he was the cleverest dom in town for his improvisation. Kurt’s heart had thumped hard in his chest, but he stayed calm and rewarded them both with a sharp tug on Devon’s loose, curly hair. Devon had leaned against his leg and sighed “Oh, _Sir_.” Kurt knew the clinic was for non-sexual domination only, but he wished he could kiss Devon for that. It didn’t seem scary at all.

He’d been able to leave after his session on his own two feet: a little wobbly-legged still, but better and more clear-headed. He’d come home to an empty loft, where he’d eaten some of yesterday’s soup, checked Twitter, and then gone to bed again. He’d drifted off easily, but he woke in the night from a vivid dream of Devon. He was naked, and his arms were tied to Kurt’s bedposts, and he looked happy and eager. It only took Kurt a few quick strokes of his cock before he came, and fell back asleep again sated.

Now it was a new day, and most of Kurt’s sickness symptoms were gone. He’d slept in, and taken a long shower, and spent a little extra time on his hair, luxuriating in the sensation of his body regaining its strength. He felt foolish for having waited so long to get treatment, now that he knew what it involved. But if he hadn’t waited, or if he’d gone to some bar near school to meet a willing sub on his own, he wouldn’t have had Devon to take care of him. And that was just unthinkable now.

He made conversation with Rachel over lunch, then waved as she ran off to class. He’d have to go to the registrar’s office, come up with an excuse for why he’d missed so much school so early in the semester, and hope no one would call his dad. But first he had something he needed to do.

“Midtown Dominant Care Clinic, how may I direct your call?”

“Hi, yes, I was a, um, patient there yesterday?”

“Yes, sir. How may I direct your call?”

Kurt wasn’t even sure how to ask. “My, um... the sub who helped me...”

“Your clinic assistant?”

“Yes,” said Kurt. “Him. Thank you. He said, ah, he’d leave a book for me today. I don’t know if it’s too early, but I thought I’d call and see.”

“Let me go check,” said the receptionist. “Who was your session with?”

“Devon. His name was Devon.”

“And your patient code?”

Kurt fumbled in his wallet for his treatment card, read off the number, and waited while the receptionist stepped away. He tried to steel himself for disappointment: after all, it was only midday. And Devon might have forgotten. Kurt was only one client in a series of who knew how many doms over the course of a day, a week, a month. Probably none of them could matter enough to Devon for him to go out of his way like he’d offered to. All the faces, all the conversations, they had to blend together, didn’t they?

“There’s a package with your code on it,” the receptionist said. “We’re open until eight if you want to come pick it up.”

“Thanks,” Kurt said. He felt so light with relief, it was almost dizzying. “I’ll be there before closing. And — while I’ve got you on the phone, can I make another appointment, please?”

*****

“Dude, we’re leaving in half an hour! You have to get dressed.”

Blaine looked up from his book to see Sam standing in the doorway of his bedroom. Sam was dressed in his best night on the town wear: a short-sleeved shirt that was unbuttoned all the way down past his pecs, skinny jeans, and a bunch of hipster-chic necklaces and bracelets. He looked sexy and approachable: ready for a fun night on the town and whatever came after.

“I told you,” Blaine said. “I’m not coming. But you look great. I’ll bet you have a great time.”

“I’d have a better time if I had my wingman. Bros are supposed to look for each other!”

It was sweet, how enthusiastic Sam still was about the two of them hitting the town together. “You know you technically want a straight wingman, right?”

Sam shook his head. “Half the dommes I talk to are there with some fierce gay friend. You’d be perfect for them. And it’s not like you don’t need the release too. You’re going to get the sickness if you stay home so much.”

Blaine tried very hard not to roll his eyes. “We’ve been over this. My job is to help dominants release their dominance hormones in a safe, non-judgmental, non-sexual environment. And by letting them dominate me enough to keep them healthy, I get enough release on my end so that I stay healthy too. It works out.”

Sam frowned. “That doesn’t seem right. I mean, sure, technically, you get enough submittatonin —”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what it’s called.”

“— you don’t end up some weak shaky mess, that works out okay. But it can’t be the same, man.”

Blaine thought of K0412. Kurt. How fragile he’d been, and how strong. How he’d walked out of the session on his own, his head held high, his hormonal balance already changing.

“There’s nothing like the feeling of letting go for a domme, man. Having her really use you, ride you, take you to the edge...” Sam shook his head appreciatively. “I mean, I’m sure it’s the same with a guy, too. So you should totally grab some of that. You’re young, you’re cute, you should be out there.”

“I’m focusing on my education and my career,” Blaine said for what felt like the five millionth time.

“But —”

“No, Sam. This is my choice.” It was harder for a sub to make it as a performer than it was for a dom, that was just a fact. The window when he could still play the ingenue was a small one — small enough that he’d even considered not going to college at all. But he needed to hone his craft, be the best performer he could possibly be, so when he was accepted to NYADA there was no question in his mind that he’d be attending.

Still, school was tough: rehearsals and training and everything else he could do to make himself the best singer, dancer, actor, and all-around performance personality he could be. He barely had time to take care of himself, let alone a dom. And the boys he’d dated in high school had made it clear that doms needed a lot of taking care of.

So when one of his classmates told him about the job at the clinic, it had seemed like the perfect solution. Certainly better than one-night stands with doms he didn’t know. He’d gone in for the interview and told them that he wanted to be a social worker if his performance career didn’t work out, so the job would be a good way for him to start in the helping professions. Even though it had been a little white lie at the time, it turned out he honestly did enjoy helping people get better, so maybe social work was something worth considering. After he’d had his shot at the spotlight.

“All right, dude. Your loss. If I meet some super-hot gay guy, I’m not giving him your number.”

“Have fun,” Blaine said, turning back to his textbook. “And if you feel unsafe for any reason, call me: I'll leave my phone on.”

“Roger that,” Sam said, and he was gone.

Alone in their tiny apartment, Blaine tried to focus back on his reading for class. But not even the scene he had to learn from _As You Like It_ could hold his attention. What would it be like if he had gone out with Sam tonight? They’d always had fun when they went out together back at Dalton, whether it was going to dances at Cavendish, the all-dom school down the road, or sneaking off-campus after curfew to drink at bars that wouldn’t card them. They’d even had a few memorable nights on the town here in New York: when Sam signed his first modeling contract, Blaine’s hangover had lasted all weekend. Maybe he should have gone, just to have fun. Maybe he could have danced with somebody, or flirted, or made out with some cute boy. Maybe there’d be one with chestnut brown hair, and blue-green eyes, and freckles on his nose. Maybe...

Blaine shook his head, shaking off the fantasy and trying to refocus on his work. There were very strict rules at work to make sure the treatments were kept non-sexual. They were a medical facility. His relationship with Kurt — if you could even call it that — was strictly therapeutic, and he had to keep his attention on his assignment.  

But their session.... One of Blaine’s other clients had asked him what he’d like, and Blaine asked to be held by the scruff of his neck again. It had felt good, for sure it felt good, but it was nowhere near as amazing as it was when Kurt did it. When he’d left Cooper’s old _Introduction to Dominance_ textbook for him at the front desk (carefully wrapped in brown paper so Kurt wouldn’t feel embarrassed to pick it up) he couldn’t help imagining Kurt studying it, poring over the pages and learning all the wonderful things he could do with a willing sub.  

 _A sub he will find outside of the clinic,_ Blaine reminded himself firmly. There was homework to be done and lines to memorize. He wandered into the kitchen for some almonds, then fell back onto his bed and buried himself in his work again.

By midnight, the words on the page were starting to blur in front of him, and Blaine got ready for bed. Sam wasn’t home yet, so he left his phone ringer on, just in case. Before he got under the covers, he checked his email one more time. There was an automated schedule from the clinic, a reminder of his appointments for the next day.

09:30 AM: R0723  
11:15 AM: K0412

K0412. _Kurt_. Blaine couldn’t help smiling as he turned off the lights.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“You’re sure you’re ready for this?” Devon asked. His brow was furrowed and his voice was tight. For a moment, Kurt lost his nerve.

“I — are you? I mean, are you okay?”

“Yes, sir. I’m still green. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to push yourself. This is only your third appointment. We can do whatever you’re ready for.”

“There’s no pushing. I’m ready for this,” Kurt said. He tried to sound more convinced of it than he really was. It must have worked, because Devon relaxed almost immediately.

“All right,” he said with a slow and content smile. “All right.” He raised his arms and turned to face the wall.

“You need to take off your shirt first.” Kurt was amazed at how commanding and not at all shaky his voice was.

“Oh.” Devon looked back at him over his shoulder, his head bowed and his eyes demurely lowered. “I’m sorry, I forgot.” He lowered his arms and slowly, slowly lifted the simple beige uniform shirt he was wearing over his head. His skin was smooth and golden and Kurt’s mouth was dry with longing. “I’m ready now, sir.”

They’d gone through the first practical chapter of Devon’s _Introduction to Dominance_ textbook in their last session — simple standing and kneeling positions — and if they were going in order they should have done basic knots and foot worship next. But Kurt figured they’d already done basic knots on his first visit, and he wasn’t going to risk his suede Paul Smith boots, so they were jumping ahead a little bit. He stepped closer, and one by one clasped Devon’s wrists in the manacles hanging from the wall.

“You’re okay?” Kurt asked again. “You’ll tell me if —”

“Sir,” Devon said, “You have my consent. I promise, I’ll use my words if I need them.”

“Okay,” Kurt said. Devon was so close, and so beautiful, that Kurt could be happy to stand here and look at his half-dressed body all day. But there was more on offer. He stepped back and picked up the flogger.

When they’d looked through the options in the deep drawers full of supplies, Kurt’s eyes wide and his pulse racing, it was Devon who’d picked up the flogger. He’d handed it to Kurt and said, “Maybe this? Feel how soft it is.” The flat strips of leather were smooth and supple, and the handle was solid but light.

In his hand now, the flogger felt weighted down with promise. He wanted this so much: to mark Devon’s beautiful bare skin, to use him, to _own_ him, even just for the rest of the appointment hour. To channel the power he felt surging through his veins and master this boy. But he was glad he was starting with something he knew couldn’t really hurt. He took a deep breath, and swung.

He’d stood too far away, and the flogger barely brushed against Devon’s back. He flushed hot with the shame of it: he couldn’t even do something this simple right. The jeers of the other doms back in high school rang in his head, and for a moment he was ready to run out of the clinic and never come back. But then Devon said quietly, “Maybe just a half-step closer, sir?” He still sounded eager, and not amused or disgusted at all. Kurt took a deep breath, and tried again.

This time, the flogger landed directly on Devon’s shoulders with a satisfying soft thwack. Devon hummed a little to himself at the contact, almost a sigh, and it sounded so good. Kurt did it again, and again, and again. Harder, and then softer, and then harder again, experimenting with different strokes, different angles, changing the grip. It felt amazing: powerful and intimate all at once. Kurt never wanted it to end.

Devon’s upper back flushed to a warm rose color as the flogging continued, and his whole body relaxed into it. His head fell back as he let the wall take some of his weight. “Sir...” he murmured.

“Tell me,” Kurt said, and he flogged him again.

“It feels good,” Devon said. “Gentle, but firm. Like you, sir. _Oh_. Like that. Thank you.”

Kurt kept going. He watched the way Devon’s muscles shifted with each stroke, how he got looser as his skin got redder. Devon kept talking, saying how he felt, murmuring soft words, taking it all so wonderfully. When he finally fell silent, Kurt knew it was time to stop.

He put the flogger in a hamper for used equipment, and he went to release Devon from the manacles. Devon was breathing more heavily than Kurt expected, and when the manacles were off, he stumbled, unsure on his feet. Kurt caught hold of his arm to steady him, and somehow it turned into an embrace.

Kurt shifted his hips so Devon wouldn't feel his arousal. He knew the clinic’s limits, and he didn't want it to seem like he was intentionally violating them. But he let himself pull the boy close and feel the heat of his skin. Devon nuzzled in against Kurt's neck, and the little noise of contentment he made filled Kurt with a warm feeling he couldn't put a name to. Ownership and dominance, yes, but also care and comfort and protection. He wanted to hold on to Devon and never let him go, but at the same time, he knew he couldn’t. He only got to keep Devon until his hour was up.

He bent his head to place a furtive kiss against Devon’s shoulder. But Devon’s skin was sweet and salty with sweat and Kurt had to taste more. He bit into Devon’s shoulder, biting hard but not breaking the skin. Devon shuddered deliciously beneath him.

“Oh. Ohh.” Devon grew soft and pliant, and then suddenly tense again. “Ye-yellow. Yellow, sir. I’m using — yellow.”

It took a moment for Kurt to make sense of what he was hearing, but when he did, he jumped back like he’d been burnt. Devon was safewording. Kurt was horrified and humiliated at his own behavior. He was everything he’d been terrified of when he came to the clinic. Devon couldn’t be trusted with him. “I’m sorry. I can go, I...”

“No,” Devon said. His eyes were wide. “No, we don’t have to stop yet. I just couldn’t... I couldn’t...”

Kurt was almost afraid to find out. “Couldn’t what?”

Devon looked down. “I couldn’t let you mark me,” he said. His voice had gone formal and far away. “There are rules, sir. Part of your patient agreement with the clinic. I can’t be marked or injured in any way that won’t heal quickly. I —” He looked pained, like it was too obvious to have to explain. “They have to consider the other doms, sir.”

“Oh.” Kurt felt a deep pang of shame. Of course he knew that he was only another patient at the clinic. He wasn't Devon's dom: he wasn't even the only dom Devon would submit to that day. He knew that, and he'd still violated the rules. He wanted so much to be responsible and safe, and he was failing already. No wonder Devon couldn’t look him in the eye. “I’m so sorry. I should have known better.”

“No, don’t say that.” Devon sounded legitimately dismayed. “It was a perfectly natural response. You felt comfortable enough to express it. That’s a good thing.” He looked up with a strained and practiced smile that seemed like it was meant to be encouraging. “Pretty soon you’ll be ready for a sub of your own. You won’t... well, you won’t need us anymore.”

Kurt’s heart sank. He'd only just found Devon. It wasn't much, seeing him at the clinic like this, but Kurt didn't see how he could let it go. “Right,” he said, and he tried to sound enthusiastic. “That’ll be great.”

Devon folded his arms across his chest, like he’d just realized he was shirtless. “Would you like to continue, sir?”

“No, that’s all right,” Kurt said quickly. He didn’t trust himself to touch Devon again so soon. He looked up at the clock on the wall. “The hour’s almost up, so — unless you need anything? You’re okay?”

Devon pressed his lips together. “I’m fine,” he said.

Kurt wondered what Devon wasn’t saying. Maybe it was better that he didn’t know. “Okay. Well, then....”

“This doesn’t mean you can’t ask for me again, sir,” said Devon. “I mean, if you want to.”

Devon looked like he actually meant it, and Kurt’s aching heart hurt a little less. Maybe he hadn’t completely ruined things. He could do better next visit. He’d remember why he was here, and be the sort of respectful dom he wanted to be. He’d keep himself safely detached. After all, wasn’t that why Devon and the other subs all wore masks?

“Thank you,” Kurt said. “I should probably go now.”

Devon bowed his head and clasped his hands in front of him, the ritualized end to every clinic session. “Thank you for allowing me to serve you, sir.”

Kurt swallowed down all the things Devon would never want to hear him say. He hurried out the door without looking back.

*****

Shakespearean Acting was one of the classes Blaine was most excited about this semester, and it was also shaping up to be one of the most challenging. Making those lines come to life four hundred years later was a privilege and an honor for an actor, but it was also a lot of work. He had to understand every word he was saying, even the most archaic parts, before he could even begin to convey the emotion behind them.

There were four kids in his section who'd been in his Stage Acting I class the previous semester, which was nice. It meant he had study buddies and scene partners going in, though of course he was looking forward to getting to know new people too. For the second week of class, he was in a group of three with Marta and Simon, two of his old friends, and they had a scene from _As You Like It_ to perform together. They’d just started rehearsing when Professor Miller came over and pulled Blaine aside.

“Blaine, I need to ask you a little favor. We have a mid-year student who’s joining the class late — medical issues, the whole start of his semester got messed up. Terrible stuff. I was thinking, since you’re part of the only group of three, maybe you’d be willing to pair up with him instead?” Blaine must’ve looked hesitant, because Professor Miller added, “I’ll take the fact that you’re getting less rehearsal than everyone else into consideration in your grade.”

“Uh, okay,” Blaine said. He really did like Marta and Simon, but maybe they could work together on another assignment later. He’d adjust.

“Thank you so much.” Professor Miller clapped her hands together excitedly, and gestured to someone who was standing in the doorway. “Come in, come in, it’s all arranged now. Blaine, I want you to meet your new scene partner, Clint.”

“It’s Kurt, actually,” Kurt said. “Kurt Hummel.” He looked down appraisingly at Blaine as he held out his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” said Blaine. The blood was pounding in his ears. He knew he looked different in his own clothes, with his hair neatly gelled and no mask over his eyes, but he’d been in session with Kurt just yesterday afternoon. He still had the mark from Kurt’s bite on his shoulder. But Kurt didn’t seem like he recognized Blaine at all. “Blaine Anderson. Welcome to the class.” Kurt nodded stiffly in thanks.

“Now, you’ll be doing a scene from _Twelfth Night_.” Professor Miller went to her desk and picked up some printouts of the text. “Blaine, you’ll be Vincenzo, the sub who’s pretending to be the dom Cesario. You had such a nice physicality in your performance as Puck last week, I think you could do wonderful things with the part. Kurt, you’ll be the actual dom in the scene, Duke Orsino. He’s a romantic: a man of appetites and passions, a dom used to getting his own way.” She looked Kurt up and down skeptically. “It might be a stretch, but it’s good for actors to try new things.” She smiled unconvincingly and hurried off to talk to another group.

“Did she mean that as an insult?” Blaine could hardly believe it. Professor Miller had seemed so nice.

Kurt was unruffled. “I’ve heard worse. Let’s get to work.”

They flipped through the scene, running lines together without worrying about how it sounded or what it meant, just looking for the shape of the scene. Then they looked up the plot summary on Wikipedia, since neither of them had read it before. They were awkwardly close to one another, both reading off Blaine’s laptop screen, but Kurt didn’t seem phased by it and Blaine tried to match his cool. The play was one of those Shakespeare comedies that hinged on disguises and people not recognizing each other, and Blaine waited for Kurt to do something, say something, to indicate that he saw the parallels to their own weird situation. But it never came.

To be fair, Blaine was a different person outside of the clinic: less soft and more guarded. And Kurt was different too. The fear and uncertainty he’d shown in the clinic was covered at school by an icy self-confidence. He sat up straight at his desk and took notes in pen in a clear, firm hand. He even looked different. At the clinic, he usually wore just a button-down shirt and slim-fitting pants: today he’d added a vest and a jacket patterned with what looked like paint splatters, topped off with a blue scarf and a brooch. The effect was exotic — not subby or dommish, but something completely Kurt’s own. Blaine felt underdressed and boring by comparison.

“It doesn’t seem like it at first, but it’s a love scene,” Kurt said. “We’ll have to work to bring that out in the performance. It’s an interesting challenge. That is, if you’re up for it.”

“What?” Blaine didn’t understand.

“I only meant that if you need to check with your dom before we proceed, that’s fine.” Kurt said it like that was normal. Blaine could barely believe what he was hearing.

“Well, first of all,” he said, “if it matters, I’m single.” He shook his bare wrist to underscore the point. “But even if I wasn’t, there’s no way I’d be with a dom who thought he could dictate who I do a love scene with. I’m an actor. Love scenes are part of my job.”

Kurt looked surprised by Blaine’s vehemence. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“Did you honestly think that would be an issue? Do you — wait, do _you_ think that? Would it be a problem for you?” The Kurt that Blaine had constructed in his head from their sessions together was crumbling to pieces right in front of him.

“No, no, of course not. I know the difference between a performance and reality.” Kurt looked sad for a moment, like he was remembering something difficult. “I’ve had some bad experiences, so I asked. I forgot NYADA would be different. I’m sorry.”

Blaine shrugged. His anger was already dissipating. “That’s all right. Thanks.”

“If it helps,” said Kurt, “you seem like the most sensible person I’ve met here so far.”

Blaine felt himself blushing a little at the compliment. “Yeah, but it’s only your first day, right?”

Kurt laughed at that, and for a moment, he was the dom Blaine had met at the clinic, the clear-eyed boy who’d trusted Blaine with so much of his heart. Blaine couldn’t help smiling back.

That night, in his bathroom at home, Blaine took off his shirt and looked at himself in the mirror. The bite mark was still there on his right shoulder, clearly visible, but the spot wasn’t reddened or sensitive any more. He ran his hand over the spot, remembering the sensation of Kurt’s mouth on his skin. He pressed down on it, savoring the pressure, but it didn’t hurt at all. He really wished it did.


	4. Chapter 4

“So the two of you were roommates at that all-sub boarding school of yours, and you’re still living together now? That’s so great.” Sam’s new domme smiled delightedly at him across the restaurant table.

Blaine shrugged. “We’ve always gotten along really well. It works.”

“Blaine is the best roomie a guy could ever ask for,” Sam said. “He’s awesome at video games, he does more than his fair share of the cleaning, and he’s always down to talk if I need to.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” the domme cooed at him. “But, baby, you know you’ve got me now too, don’t you?”

“You know it, Mercedes.”

Sam’s big goofy grin warmed Blaine’s heart. He knew Sam had missed being taken care of in a relationship, and Mercedes seemed like a good fit for him so far. It had only been a couple of weeks, true, but right now Sam seemed happier and more together than he’d been in a long time.

“And what about you, Blaine?” Mercedes asked. “Is there a special dom in your life?”

“I’m focusing on my career,” Blaine said.

“Blaine’s a student at NYADA,” Sam said proudly. “It’s a drama school. They only take, like, twenty people a year in musical theater, and Blaine got in. That’s how talented he is.”

“NYADA? I know people who go there, actually. High school classmates.” Mercedes looked at Blaine appraisingly. “I may need to introduce you to one of them in particular.”

Blaine got the sinking feeling that he was going to get dragged into a blind date if he didn’t shut this down quickly. “I’m not looking to meet anyone new right now,” he said apologetically. “But thanks.”

Mercedes shrugged and took another French fry from Sam’s plate. They moved on to talking about Sam’s most recent photo shoot, which had been jungle-themed, and had left Sam with a bad rash from one of the costumes. But Blaine didn’t miss the speculative looks Mercedes was giving him. He hoped he wouldn’t have to put his foot down. He didn’t want to make things awkward for Sam.

*****

“Oh,” Rachel said as her phone beeped at her, “it’s Mercedes.”

“Mercedes? How’s she doing?” Kurt took another sip from his latte and looked out at the busy street. Manhattan was full of energy and life, the pulse of the city thrumming through the crowds walking past.

“She’s dating someone and she wants us to meet him.” Rachel didn’t even look up from her phone. “Oh, he’s cute. See?” She turned the screen to show him a picture of a boy with a big smile and blond hair. He was very good-looking, if you liked blondes.

“Cute,” Kurt said noncommittally. “I hope he’s smarter than the last one.”

“That’s not nice,” Rachel said. “Though admittedly, Steve was extremely dim. But sometimes I think a not so bright sub is better? They’re always so happy to be told what to do.”

“That is the most dom-chauvinist thing I have ever heard you say, and we have been friends for half a decade now.” Kurt tore a piece off his croissant and bit into it. “You should never want a dumb sub.”

Devon was so smart and insightful. He knew when it was okay to ask a little more of Kurt, and when to step back. He understood his own responses, too, and could articulate them to Kurt when he asked. He’d been Kurt’s teacher as well as his eager research subject. Kurt didn’t even want to think what it would have been like if he’d been placed with someone like Mercedes’s LA sub, who thought about nothing but his pecs.

“Oh, really?” Rachel put her phone down and leaned conspiratorially towards him. “Is there a particular reason you’re so intent on defending the honor of subs’ intelligence, hmm?”

“No,” Kurt said. He hoped he didn’t look as red-faced as he felt. “Of course not. I would tell you if there was. Obviously. But there are plenty of smart subs at NYADA.”

“You mean like Brody?”

“Well, he had a certain sort of animal cunning, I’ll give you that. But no, I was thinking more like —” Kurt reached for an example. “Oh, my scene partner for this Shakespeare assignment. Blaine Anderson. He’s smart and talented and always well-prepared for our rehearsals. He’s done a ton of research, and he’s giving a very nuanced performance. Not to mention, he agrees with me about that awful professor, and about this season of _Top Chef._ ”

“Soooo,” Rachel said, and she smiled slowly, “when are you going to ask him out?”

“What? No.” Kurt was offended that she’d jumped there right away. “You see, if he were dumb, maybe there wouldn’t be anything interesting about him except his body —”

“Which is nice?”

“Honestly, I’ve barely noticed. Because he and I are friends. The way people who can have a real conversation with each other because they’re both reasonably intelligent can be friends, even when they’re a sub and a dom. I know it’s a shock to you, Rachel, but sit with it for a while, you’ll get used to the idea.”

Rachel harrumphed and went back to her phone. Kurt looked back out the window again. He wondered where Devon was right now. They had a session today: was he already at the clinic? Or was he somewhere out on the streets of the city, running errands, or having coffee with a friend, or shopping? What was his life like outside of work?

“Well, if you’re not into this Blaine guy,” said Rachel, “Mercedes says her new sub has a gay roommate. She thinks you’d like him.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Rachel. I’m taking care of myself and avoiding the sickness, just like I always have. Please tell Mercedes I appreciate the offer, but I’m not looking for a fix-up right now.”

“Your loss,” Rachel shrugged. “There are a lot of cute sub boys out there, Kurt. You should be finding one and pinning him down.”

*****

“It’s this whole feeding the rope through evenly part that’s tricky,” Kurt said.

“They say the rope should feel like an extension of your hands,” Blaine reminded him. He shifted a little on the low stool to get comfortable.

“Easy enough to say,” Kurt muttered. “I want to get this right.” He was sitting on a chair facing Blaine, and he was re-reading the _Introduction to Dominance_ instructions for the basic kinbaku rope pattern he’d chosen. Kurt had complained about the unclear diagrams and poor transliterations from the Japanese when he did the knot immobilizing Blaine’s arms behind his back, and now he was stopping to review the entire lengthy process in the textbook. Kurt looked so dominant as he read, all seriousness and responsibility, and Blaine really wanted him to be touching his body again.

“I know you do, sir,” Blaine said earnestly. “And I appreciate it. Just remember it’s as much about the journey as the destination, okay?”

“I want you to speak up immediately if you get numb,” Kurt said. “No waiting.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay.” Kurt put down the book on his chair, leaving it open to the page with the diagrams, and picked up the soft jute rope again. He circled Blaine in the chair as he wrapped the ropes around Blaine’s deltoids, and then across his chest, and around again. “I’m going to keep checking in on you as I go. Make sure you’re all right. Why don’t you talk to me as I work?”

“Um, okay. What about?”

“Well,” Kurt said, pulling the ropes into place behind Blaine’s back, “how was your day so far?”

Blaine was surprised by the question. “It was good, I guess. I had coffee with friends before I came to the clinic. Not much.”

He’d studied and run lines with Sam as well, but now was not the time to be telling Kurt about their connection outside the clinic. If Kurt hadn’t figured it out himself, Blaine didn’t know how he was going to tell him. If he ever could. He didn’t know how Kurt would react, and he didn’t want to alienate him. Maybe it was better to keep silent.

“Really? Me too. Well, with a friend, anyway.” Kurt knotted the two pieces of his binding, shoulders and wrists, together. The additional pressure pulled Blaine’s shoulders together a little. “My roommate. She’s a little intense, but I love her.”

Blaine still hadn’t met Rachel, though he’d heard about her voice from their classmates. Kurt had mentioned her a few times to Blaine at school, but only in passing. “It’s good to have friends,” he said.

The rope went up under the line across Blaine’s shoulders, over and around again. It was soft but confining, and it made him acutely aware of every place it touched him. Kurt’s hands were gentle and smooth, and Blaine could feel himself growing still, letting go.

“It’s funny,” Kurt said. “She was trying to set me up with a sub.”

Blaine jolted back to acute awareness with a sick thud. “Why is that funny, sir?”

“Oh,” Kurt said. He laughed a little to himself. “Oh, just that — well, I don’t think I’m ready.” He fed the rope through his hands like an old pro, and looped it around again.

“That’s fair,” Blaine said. He did his best to sound clinical and disengaged. “You’re only just getting in touch with your own dominance. Though I have to say, sir, you’re learning quickly.”

Kurt stilled for a moment. “I, uh. Thanks,” he said. “That’s good to hear.”

Blaine felt the ropes pull a little as Kurt built a set of knots that ran parallel to Blaine’s spine. These were meant to be strong enough to hold a bound sub’s weight. Blaine liked how solid they felt, and reassuring. He shut his eyes.

“You’re supposed to be talking to me,” Kurt reminded him.

“Oh,” Blaine’s eyes flew open. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right.” Kurt ran his hand through Blaine’s hair, soothing him. Blaine’s hair was a ridiculous curly mess when he left it loose, but Kurt’s fingers never seemed to get caught in any tangles. “Just talk to me, okay?”

“Okay.” Blaine tried to think of something to say. “We were talking about you taking a sub before.”

“Can we pick another topic? I said I’m not ready.”

“I know,” Blaine said hurriedly. “I meant, when you are ready, sir. You must have thought about it. What sort of sub you’d want.” It felt risky and a little unfair, using the clinical relationship to learn more about Kurt like this. But Kurt’s insurance coverage wasn’t going to cover unlimited clinic visits, and eventually this would have to stop. They were getting to be friends at school already. Maybe if Blaine knew what sort of sub Kurt would want, he could be try to be more like that.

“I spent so long in high school adjusting to the idea that even though I had a dom mark, I didn’t have the same drives most doms do. And now I’m here in New York and those drives have finally kicked in — I mean, I need to catch my breath. I’m not running to find a collar for someone.”

“Oh, no, I know. I know, sir.” Blaine nodded emphatically to show that he understood completely. “I wasn’t trying to suggest that. It’s way too soon for you to be thinking about claim bracelets, let alone a collar. But maybe, if you were going to ask a sub out on a date...”

“And that’s another thing. Claim bracelets. They’re usually so tacky. If I’m going to claim a boy, I’m not going to insist on making him into a fashion disaster.” The rope went around Blaine’s ribcage, right below his chest. Kurt had to thread the rope below Blaine’s arms, and came in close behind his back as he worked. “Do you have any advice? Where to shop and the like?”

“Me?” None of Blaine’s relationships had ever been serious enough to lead to braceletting, even when he thought they might. “I think you should follow your own taste. Which, not to be pushy, sir, but you didn’t answer the question.”

“Oh.” Kurt stilled.

Blaine tried to backtrack. Maybe he’d gone too far. “I mean, even if you weren’t ready before, you must have had fantasies, right? Everyone does.”

“Yeah?” Kurt’s voice was close against his ear. Blaine shivered. “Who did you fantasize about?”

“The movies. You know.”

“Anyone in particular?”

This was supposed to be Blaine asking Kurt questions, but somehow things had reversed. Blaine swallowed hard. “Um.”

“Tell me,” Kurt said, and it was a command. Blaine felt it in his veins.

“Barbara Stanwyck and Henry Fonda in _The Lady Eve,_ ” he said quietly. It felt like an intimate confession.

“ _The Lady Eve_?” Kurt came around to face Blaine. “I love that movie.”

“Really?” Blaine couldn’t help grinning. “I must have seen it a hundred times.”

“ _The Lady Eve_.” Kurt shook his head. “Well, I can see you as Barbara Stanwyck, for sure. Are you still looking for a young Henry Fonda type?”

“That wasn’t — that isn’t really it,” Blaine said. He wondered if he could explain it. “She’s so smart, but she’s still completely vulnerable to him, and she knows it. And he’s so smart about everything but love.”

“They’re a good pair,” Kurt said. “That’s what I like about old movies too. How much they could tell you about a couple without ever having to get specific. You know she’s submitting to him, but they don’t have to show you everything on screen.” He picked up the rope again. “And she’s got a mind of her own without being unsubmissive. I think Hollywood has forgotten people like that can exist.”

“You like that?” Blaine asked. “How smart she is?”

“Yes. I was just telling my roommate today that she shouldn’t be looking for a stupid boy to kneel for her. She should choose someone intelligent.”

“So that’s what you’d want,” Blaine said. He tried hard not to let the happiness show in his voice. “An intelligent boy who doesn’t try to hide it.”

“Yes,” Kurt said. He made another knot. “I’d want a boy who understood himself and his own reactions. Who wanted to experiment with me, but who also wanted to hang out and get coffee and watch the world go by, like — like both of us did today. I wouldn’t want someone who made me his whole life: he deserves to have interests of his own. I’d only want to take a sub I could have a real conversation with. Someone who could make me laugh. But I’d want to know that in matters of the heart, he submitted to me completely, the way Barbara Stanwyck did for Henry Fonda in that movie. The way he claims her...” He sighed happily.

Blaine could barely believe his ears. Everything Kurt was saying, it was all the things Blaine would want to hear a dom wish for. It was like he was describing Blaine, and all the things Blaine would want in a relationship. Independence and connection and time together watching old black and white movies. Blaine was already Kurt’s ideal sub, even if Kurt didn’t know it yet. And Blaine, who hadn’t wanted a relationship at all since he ended things with his last high school dom, thought maybe Kurt could be his ideal too.

“Though I wouldn’t expect my sub to do that whole double-identity thing that she does to win him back.” Kurt frowned as he secured the last knot. “That part was a little unrealistic.”

“Well, it is a screwball comedy,” Blaine allowed.

“That’s true. The rules are different.” Kurt stepped back to inspect his work. “I don’t know. I see the appeal, I guess. I like tying you up. But I don’t really think kinbaku rope bondage is my thing.”

“It’s not my favorite either,” Blaine admitted.

“It’s not? You should have said.” Kurt shook his head as he went for a knife to release Blaine more quickly. “We don’t have to do the entire book, you know.”

“You wouldn’t have known you didn’t like it if you didn’t try it, sir.”

Kurt considered that. “I guess that’s true. But next time, we’ll try something you’d like. Even if it’s an off-the-menu order. All right?”

Blaine bowed his head and lowered his eyes demurely. He couldn’t help the smile, though. “As you wish, sir.”


	5. Chapter 5

There was nothing Kurt loved as much as performing. Even in a situation like this, where it was just him and his scene partner in the front of the classroom -- no sets, no lights, no costumes, no stage -- there was still the rush of bringing the words to life, and having everyone’s eyes on him in a way that he chose. Since his hormones had kicked into overdrive, he’d come to realize that for him performing was another sort of dominance: taking the whole audience in his hand and leading them through the experience he wanted them to have. It was exhilarating.

The scene was from Shakespeare’s _Twelfth Night_. He was Duke Orsino, a strutting and vain dom, more infatuated with the idea of love than actually in love with Olivier, the sub he wanted to claim. Blaine was Vincenzo, a sub pretending to be a dom named Cesario, who’d joined Orsino’s court. In the play, Vincenzo fell in love with Duke Orsino, even as Orsino charged Cesario with wooing Olivier for him. As their scene ended, Vincenzo/Cesario was about to head off on his mission. Blaine gave him a look of caring concern, like he was trying to make sure Orsino didn’t get his heart broken. “But if he cannot love you, sir?”

Kurt made an airily dismissive gesture. “I cannot be so answer'd.”

Blaine’s Vincenzo was amused and forlorn all at once.

_Sooth, but you must._  
 _Say that some poor sub, as perhaps there is,_  
 _Hath for your love as great a pang of heart_  
 _As you have for Olivier: you cannot love him;_  
 _You tell him so; must he not then be answer'd?_

Kurt’s next speech was his favorite in the entire scene: Orsino dismissing the idea that any submissive could love as much as he did, showing the character’s vanity and his ignorance of what love truly was. He saw his classmates watching raptly as he spoke the lines, giving all he could of Orsino’s certainty and his foolishness.

_No mere submissive's sides_  
 _Can bide the beating of so strong a passion_  
 _As love doth give my heart; nor have they heart_  
 _So big, to hold so much; they lack retention_  
 _Alas, their love may be call'd appetite,_  
 _No motion of the liver, but the palate,_  
 _That suffer surfeit, cloyment and revolt;_  
 _But mine is all as hungry as the sea,_  
 _And can digest as much: make no compare_  
 _Between that love a sub can bear for me_  
 _And that I owe Olivier._

Blaine was right there with him, listening as intently as if this was the first time he’d heard the speech, and protesting like it was torn from him involuntarily. “Ay, but I know--”

Kurt gave him a benevolently amused eyebrow raise. “What dost thou know?”

Blaine’s eyelashes fluttered, a brief hint of the submissive Vincenzo hidden beneath Cesario’s surface.

_Too well what love submissives may us owe:_  
 _In faith, they are as true of heart as we._  
 _My father had a son who loved a dom,_  
 _As it might be, perhaps, were I submissive,_  
 _I should your lordship._

They’d discussed it in rehearsal and decided that this was the moment at which Orsino, even though he thinks he’s talking to another dom, begins to be attracted to Vincenzo. Kurt used his whole body to show Orsino’s interest, and his surprise, and his desire to learn more. “And what's his history?”

Blaine shrugged. He moved a little further away in their makeshift performance area as Vincenzo spoke his own heart in the guise of another’s.

_A blank, my lord. He never told his love,_  
 _But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,_  
 _Feed on his damask cheek: he pined in thought,_  
 _And with a green and yellow melancholy_  
 _He sat like patience on a monument,_  
 _Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?_  
 _We doms may say more, swear more: but indeed_  
 _Our shows are more than will; for still we prove_  
 _Much in our vows, but little in our love._

There were unshed tears in Blaine’s eyes as he spoke, and Kurt felt a primal desire to protect him. He let the urgency of the emotion fuel his performance. “But died thy brother of his love, my boy?”

Blaine gave him a crooked half-smile, full of all the things Vincenzo couldn’t say.

_I am all the submissives of my father's house,_  
 _And all the dominants too: and yet I know not._

There was a long and freighted pause between them. Kurt could feel the sexual tension between Orsino and Vincenzo, as vivid as if they were real people and not words on a page. Then Blaine stood up straighter and cleared his throat, breaking the spell. “Sir, shall I to Olivier?”

Kurt called on all of Orsino’s majesty and pride as the character reminded himself of his plans.

_Ay, that's the theme._  
 _To him in haste; give him this jewel; say,_  
 _My love can give no place, bide no denay._

When they finished, the applause from their classmates was loud and sustained. Even Professor Miller looked impressed. Flush with success, Kurt took Blaine’s hand as they took a bow together.

*****

“I can’t believe it,” Kurt said. “An A!”

Blaine grinned. “I knew we’d kill it. You were so great.”

“You were great. We were great!” Kurt twirled happily as they walked down the hall. “And not even Professor Miller could deny it.” The happiness bubbled up inside him. He might have started at NYADA on the wrong foot, missing classes because of the sickness, but he was right where he wanted to be now.

“We should celebrate,” Blaine said.

“Yes,” Kurt said. Even better than the taste of success was the thought of having his friends there to witness it. “I’ll call Rachel.”

“I was thinking maybe, um, we could go just the two of us?” Blaine said. He looked anxious. “You and me.”

“What?”

Blaine swallowed hard and planted his feet. “Kurt. I really enjoyed working on this scene with you. I think we make a pretty good team. And I was hoping you might want to get to know each other better away from classwork. You know, like dinner or - or a movie.”

Kurt was surprised by this speech, and actually sort of touched by how nervous Blaine looked. It was a side of him Kurt hadn’t seen in class. “Blaine. Are you asking me out?”

“I - I mean, not if you don’t want me to be. But I - okay, yeah. Yeah, I am.”

He looked so sincere, and so intent, that for a moment Kurt could almost see Devon, carefully warning him about safety procedures. But it passed, and there was Blaine again, and Kurt knew what he had to say. He’d always thought he’d be on the other side of this particular conversation.

“Blaine,” he said carefully. “I’m flattered. But I’ll be honest, I think of you as a friend. I’m not — I’m sorry, Blaine.”

“That’s all right,” Blaine said. His eyes were bright and sad, and Kurt sort of hated himself for doing this to him. It wasn’t like Blaine had done anything wrong; he was a great guy. But he wasn’t the sub Kurt wanted.

“I really liked working with you,” Kurt said. “I think you’re a very talented actor.”

“You don’t have to compliment me.”

“I mean it,” Kurt insisted. “And I do think of you as a friend. I hope...”

“Yeah,” Blaine said. He ran a hand over his carefully slicked-back hair. “Friends. I’ll see you tomorrow, Kurt.”

He turned neatly on his heel and he was gone.

*****

Blaine thought about calling in sick to work the next morning: he had K0412 on his schedule, the same way he had the last couple of Thursdays, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to face Kurt again so soon. But maybe it was better to just bite the bullet and get it over with. Kurt’s insurance coverage would run out soon enough.

They were in a new treatment room, one of the larger ones, with a comfortable sofa, a few armchairs, and several footstools a good height to get paddled over. Blaine tried not to sigh as he started the session.

“Good morning, sir. My name is Devon. My safewords are yellow and red. How may I serve you?”

Kurt frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Sir?”

“You look — well, you look like hell, Devon. Is everything okay?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t sleep well last night. I didn’t realize it showed.” His first client that morning had blindfolded him. Blaine had dozed a little bit and the client thought he’d entered subspace. “I can ask them to send someone else in.”

“No. No, don’t do that.” Kurt came closer, tantalizingly close. He lifted his hand like he wanted to put it on Blaine’s arm, but he stopped short. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” He’d come home to find Mercedes and Sam cuddled up on the couch, watching a _Phineas & Ferb _marathon on TV. He’d joined them for a few episodes but eventually he couldn’t be around two people so giddy with new love. He ate some dinner and went to his room to be alone.

All night, he’d lain awake in bed, going through what had happened and where he’d gone so wrong. He’d really thought he was what Kurt wanted. What Kurt had _said_ he wanted. And Blaine had felt that spark when they performed together. It was more than just the characters in the play: Blaine had been acting long enough to know the difference. It was them, connecting. He knew it was. But maybe he was wrong, because Kurt didn’t feel the same way.

“I get insomnia,” Blaine said now as Kurt regarded him skeptically. “It happens.”

“Well, luckily for you there’s a cure for that,” Kurt said. He pointed to the sofa. “Go lie down.”

Blaine frowned in confusion. “But —”

“That was an order, Devon.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kurt rummaged through the drawers of supplies until he found a blanket and a juice box. He brought both of them over to Blaine, and carefully covered him with the blanket. Blaine waited for Kurt to tuck him in a little more severely than would be comfortable, or tie his arm to a sofa leg or something, but Kurt just popped the little straw into the juice box and placed it on the side table closest to Blaine’s head. “Get some sleep.”

“Sir,” Blaine protested, “this is your session. You need the opportunity to express your dominance.”

“And you need to be taken care of. That’s part of being a dom too; I don’t need a textbook to teach me that.” Kurt sat down in an armchair across from him and carefully folded his legs. “You need your rest, and I plan to make sure that you get it.”

Blaine wanted to argue. It was his responsibility to serve Kurt, not the other way around. But an order was an order, and he didn’t want to disobey. He settled himself on the couch and closed his eyes.

He really did try to relax, but he was too aware of Kurt sitting just across from him, maybe even observing him. Every noise was amplified, every rustle of Kurt’s clothing was meaningful. He couldn’t possibly sleep like this. He opened his eyes again.

Kurt was reading something on his phone. Blaine watched him, and tried not to notice how the light from the screen gave a glow to Kurt’s face. Kurt was so beautiful, but he wasn’t Blaine’s dom, and he wasn’t going to be. Maybe it was okay to watch him read, though.

After a little while, Kurt looked over at the couch, and his eyebrows went up. “I thought I told you to get some sleep.”

Blaine shrugged. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Kurt regarded him carefully. “Do you want to be punished? Is that what you’re doing?”

“No, sir. I don’t.” Blaine didn’t think he could bear a punishment from Kurt, not now when he already felt Kurt’s rejection like a lead weight in his chest. But the question reminded him of another conversation. “You said, last time. You said I could pick?”

“I did.” Kurt frowned. “And your choice is... not sleeping?”

“No.” He took a breath. “I’d like it if you, you know, if you would lie down with me?”

Kurt’s eyes went wide. “That’s what you want to pick?”

“Yes.” Blaine’s rational mind was telling him not to do this. It wasn’t fair to Kurt, or to himself really. But he was tired and sad and he just wanted it so much. It wasn’t wrong. “That’s what I want, sir. For you to hold me. I think I could sleep then.”

“Well. If that’s what it takes.” Kurt put his phone away in his bag, and came over to the sofa. He pulled off the two soft back cushions, making room. “How do you want this?”

“Spoons, maybe? That could work.” Blaine rolled over onto his side, facing the back of the couch, and looked encouragingly over his shoulder. Kurt slipped off his shoes and slowly lowered himself down behind Blaine.

“Okay,” Kurt said, almost to himself. “Okay.” He put his hand on Blaine’s forearm.

Blaine reached over and gently maneuvered him so that Kurt’s hand was resting below his chest instead. It felt very daring, but Kurt didn’t resist. “Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me.” Kurt’s voice was a quiet hum against Blaine’s skin. “It’s all right.”

It had been a long time since Blaine tried to sleep with another person next to him, and the heat and the weight of Kurt so close weren’t exactly restful. Except that they were, in a way: with Kurt’s arm around him, and Kurt’s breath against the back of his neck, he felt safe and warm. It felt right, and he fought back the voice inside his head reminding him that it wasn’t right, wasn’t real, and he let himself enjoy it.

As he slipped further into rest, his breath deepening and his eyes getting heavy, Kurt sighed quietly and nuzzled in against the back of Blaine’s neck. It woke Blaine up with a reminder of his first session with Kurt. How good it had felt to have Kurt hold him there. How completely owned by this dom he’d been, from the very first time they met. Blaine wasn’t even thinking when he turned around in Kurt’s arms and kissed him.

Kurt didn’t react at first, didn’t even breathe. Then all of a sudden, he let out a deep gust of air, and his hand was against Blaine’s jaw, holding him in place. Blaine opened his mouth to the kiss, and Kurt was licking at his lips. It occurred to Blaine that he was probably the first sub Kurt had ever kissed, and he shuddered from the privilege and the responsibility of it.

“Devon,” Kurt said as they pulled apart. His eyes were wide and wondering. “I can’t — Isn’t this against the rules?”

“The rules?” Kurt’s mouth tasted so good, and Blaine wanted nothing more than to taste it again. But Kurt pushed him back when he tried.

“The rules of the clinic. I’m not supposed to kiss you or...”

“Oh.”

It was hardly unusual for a sub to come back to the lounge after a session with a story about how he’d orgasmed from an intense session, or the client had: the human sex drive and the urge to dominate or submit were separate things, but biologically they were pretty closely linked. But taking that next step, and actually becoming intimate with a client? That was a firing offense, no questions asked.

Kurt’s hand came back against the side of Blaine’s face, and he cradled it almost reverently. “You’re amazing. But I’m not going to let you risk your job.”

Blaine hadn’t known that kindness could hurt so much. Kurt was trying to take care of him. He was protecting Blaine in a way that none of the Cavendish doms he’d dated had ever done. It should have made Blaine feel safe and warm, but instead it made him feel like something was being ripped out of his chest. All that kindness meant was that Kurt would stop touching him. Kurt would stop kissing him, and he would never have this chance again. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t have it at least once. Just once.

“So then don’t let them find out,” he said, and he kissed Kurt as hard as he knew how.

Kurt pulled him closer, wrapping Blaine up in his arms. He was so deliciously strong, and Blaine was melting in his embrace. “I won’t,” Kurt said. “I swear I won’t.” And they kissed again, fervently, like they were sealing the promise.

“Can I suck you?” Blaine suddenly wanted it more than anything else: to take Kurt in his mouth, take him in so deep he could barely breathe. To be filled by him completely.

“Um.” Kurt looked shocked.

Blaine felt hot and embarrassed. Kurt was so inexperienced, and he’d pushed him. That wasn’t nice, and it certainly wasn’t sexy. “I just meant. If that was something you would want. I would. Sir.” He ducked his head a little so he wouldn’t have to look Kurt in the eye.

“Oh.”

“I wasn’t trying to insist or anything.”

“Of course not,” Kurt said, almost offended on Blaine’s behalf. “But... it’s something you would want? If I wanted it?”

Blaine nodded.

Kurt took a deep breath. “Well,” he said. His voice went husky and threaded with amusement as he pressed his forehead against Blaine’s. “Have you been a good boy?”

Blaine felt like he would explode with joy. “Oh, yes, sir. Yes.”

“Well, then.” Kurt smiled. “You may.”

Blaine wriggled out of Kurt’s embrace and started kissing his way down his chest, undoing the snaps on Kurt’s shirt as he went. Kurt was wearing an undershirt beneath it: another barrier between Blaine and the taste of Kurt’s skin. Blaine loved the tease of it. He nuzzled his nose into Kurt’s bellybutton, and Kurt’s hips jerked up beneath him.

“Oh. Oh, wow.”

Blaine smiled to himself as he unbuttoned Kurt’s pants. His cock was already a hard and tempting bulge beneath the paisley patterned denim. Blaine could happily stay there for a while, anticipating and worshipping, but Kurt had said he could have more than that, so he was taking it. He ran a hand along the curve of Kurt’s ass, and Kurt took the hint, lifting himself up a little so Blaine could carefully pull off his pants.

“Take care of them,” Kurt said, a little breathlessly. “They’re Marc Jacobs.”

Blaine folded the pants carefully and hung them over the side of the couch. He knelt at the end of the couch at Kurt’s feet, taking in the gorgeous angles of him.

Kurt frowned at the attention. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, sir.” There was no way for Blaine to say what he was really feeling: not now, and not ever, probably. How he ached to belong to Kurt. How much it hurt to know Kurt didn’t feel the same way. But he could have this. Kurt had said he could.

“Then I believe you still have a job to do.” Kurt put his hand behind his head, elbow angled out. He regarded Blaine with a look that was confident and terrified all at once, and Blaine had never adored a dom more.

“Yes, sir,” he said, and bent to his work. He freed Kurt’s cock from his striped boxer briefs. It jutted up proudly, longer than Blaine’s and just as thick, and already leaking pre-come. Blaine’s mouth was watering. He lowered himself down to kiss Kurt’s thighs and suck gently at Kurt’s balls.

“Stop teasing,” Kurt said. His voice was thready and his thighs were shaking, and Blaine had given him this, had given him all of it. It was intoxicating. Blaine licked his lips and took Kurt’s cock in his mouth.

It had been a while since he’d given head, so he misjudged how much he could take at first, and gagged on it. But he pulled back and gave Kurt a watery reassuring smile, and did it again, more slowly and carefully. Kurt made a wordless sound of wonder. Blaine sucked him harder.

Blaine put his hand on Kurt’s hip -- touching him and maybe holding him in place a little bit in case he started thrusting without warning -- and Kurt put his hand on top of it, covering it. When Kurt’s hips started to move, Blaine backed off a little to try to make it last. He swirled his tongue around the head of Kurt’s cock, savoring the taste of him.

“Please. Please,” Kurt said, and it was so insanely hot to hear him like this, needing and hungry and wanting more. Blaine hollowed his cheeks and gave Kurt everything he had, and Kurt came with a full-body shudder.

Blaine swallowed and swallowed as much as he could, greedy for every taste of it, as Kurt softened and gasped beneath him. Kurt took Blaine’s hand in his own and held on tightly, and when Blaine finally let Kurt’s cock slip from his mouth, Kurt pulled him up for a long and grateful kiss.

“Wow. That was amazing. Wow.” Kurt was flushed and sweaty and he looked so happy. Blaine could barely stand how good it felt. “You haven’t, though. You didn’t come yet.”

“That’s all right, sir.”

Kurt bit his lip. “I want to make you come,” he said. “Take off your pants.”

Blaine shucked off the uniform pants and the top as well. No point in half measures now. He lay sideways on the couch, curled up next to Kurt, hard and ready and waiting.

Kurt’s eyes roamed his body. “You’re gorgeous like this.” He reached for Blaine’s hand again. “Will you show me how you like it? When you touch yourself. Show me.”

Blaine had never had a dom ask him for anything like that. But he put his hand on his own cock, and Kurt wrapped his hand around it, so it was the two of them moving together as Kurt watched. It was tempting to make a show of it, to tease himself and drag it out for Kurt’s entertainment, but Kurt had asked how Blaine did it for himself, so Blaine showed him. He let his eyes fall shut and imagined Kurt was with him in his own bed, in _their_ bed, watching him as intently as he knew Kurt was watching him now, because he was Kurt’s, and because Kurt was pleased with him. It didn’t take very long before he came, the pleasure like a blow to the base of his spine, and he spurted on himself, on Kurt’s shirt, on the sofa. He was going to have to clean up carefully before he left.

“That was beautiful,” Kurt said quietly. “Thank you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Blaine replied. He leaned his head against Kurt’s strong shoulder, and the sleep that had escaped him last night wrapped itself around him almost immediately, pulling him under into a welcoming stillness.

He was almost entirely asleep when he felt Kurt’s kiss against his forehead, right at the hairline, and he heard Kurt’s whispered words. “I love you, Devon.”

 _My name’s Blaine_ , he thought fuzzily, and then all was darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

“So I was thinking, laser show—”

“Obviously.”

“But my A&R manager says it’s too expensive.” Mercedes shook her head.

“That’s ridiculous,” Sam protested. “Blaine, don’t you think that’s ridiculous?”

“What?” Blaine looked up from his coffee. He hadn’t really been paying attention.

Sam shook his head. “He gets like this,” he said apologetically.

“Like what? I was thinking.”

“You,” Sam said, pointing at him for emphasis, “are lovesick. Seen it before, know the signs.”

“What? No. I’m tired, that’s all.”

“Lovesick,” Sam repeated. “Saw it with Jonathan, saw it with Brent, saw it with every Cavendish dom you ever so much as looked at twice. You fall for these selfish, stuck-up losers, and then you get all moon-eyed and miserable for like weeks when they break your heart. You said you weren’t dating anyone, man.”

“I’m not,” Blaine said. “And it’s not — it’s not like that, Sam.”

Blaine had slept in Kurt’s arms for the rest of their session. He’d only woken when Kurt, already fully dressed, gently shook him and told him their hour was up. He’d shaken his head blearily, trying to focus, and managed to mumble the ritual closing, “Thank you for allowing me to serve you, sir.” Kurt had laughed and told him to get a good night’s sleep. He'd run his hand through Blaine’s sleep-mussed hair, and his thumb lingered for a moment on Blaine’s forehead, right at the spot where Kurt had kissed him. Which was the only reason Blaine was sure that none of it had been a dream.

Kurt was in love with Devon. He’d turned down Blaine, but he was in love with Devon, and he hadn’t figured out that they were both the same person. So he couldn’t really be in love with Devon if he didn’t see that, could he? This wasn’t some ridiculous romantic comedy, this was real life. Devon was a part that Blaine played at work: the safe and welcoming sub who made himself available to doms who couldn’t or wouldn’t approach a sub on their own. He was an easy ideal, safely anonymous behind a mask, not a real person with complexities and imperfections. Kurt had made it clear that he didn’t want the real Blaine. So maybe the right thing to do would be to stop seeing Kurt at the clinic altogether.

But that would mean giving up his sessions with Kurt, and now that they’d had sex, it was harder to face that idea than ever. Kurt was the best dom Blaine had ever had. He wasn’t selfish or stuck-up — except maybe sometimes, and only in a good way. He was kind and funny and considerate, and it felt so good to submit to him. But if Kurt only wanted to be with Devon, then he didn’t really want to be with Blaine at all. Thinking about it made Blaine’s head hurt.

Maybe he should have said something right from the start. That first day in Shakespearean Acting, he could have pulled Kurt aside and told him quietly that they’d met before. It was dumb of him to expect that Kurt would see it just because he was the dom. But he also hadn’t said anything because he didn’t want to embarrass Kurt. So much of their time together had been intimate, and not just sexually. He knew things about Kurt that no one else knew yet. Kurt would be horrified to learn that someone in his life outside of the clinic had seen how scared he had been of his own basic urges. So it had seemed like the right thing to keep quiet. But that had led him to where they were now.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Blaine?” Mercedes asked. “You really do seem kind of down.”

“I’m fine. Thank you.” He sighed. “I missed out on a part at school, something I thought I would be perfect for. I think I need to go through the mourning process to get past it.”

“I understand,” Mercedes said. She patted his hand. “I’ve been through it plenty myself. I like to think it makes you stronger as a performer in the end.”

The sympathy made him feel even worse: he didn’t want to be lying to Sam’s new domme. Who was he even turning into?

“I know!” she said. “My friends have a potluck dinner every Monday night. You get your mope on over the weekend, and then Monday, you come with us to dinner. Meet some new people, have some good food, shake it off. Bring those carrot-cake cupcakes you made last week; I know Kurt and Rachel would love them.”

Blaine felt sick. “Rachel Berry and Kurt Hummel?”

Mercedes looked surprised. “You met them already? I guess Rachel does have a way of making herself known.”

“Actually, I’m in a class with Kurt. Shakespearean Acting.”

“Oh.” Mercedes seemed disappointed, and Blaine realized with a lurch that Kurt was probably the NYADA dom she’d wanted to introduce him to.

Kurt was everywhere. Blaine was never going to be able to get away from him and get over him in peace. If that was actually what he wanted to do. He took another drink of his coffee and sighed. He was going to have to figure it out eventually: he had another appointment with Kurt on Tuesday.

*****

Kurt didn’t think he’d ever been happier than he was the weekend after that first amazing time with Devon. The sun seemed brighter, the city more enticing, even the boys on the street were prettier than they used to be. He felt ready to conquer the world and make it beg at his feet. Was this was how other doms felt all the time?

Monday at the potluck, he’d met Mercedes’s new sub, who was as cute as his photo and just a little bit gay. It had taken everything he had not to tell everyone about his Devon — who wasn’t his Devon yet, not quite. But Kurt was positive now that he would be. The sex had only deepened the connection between them, and now that he knew Devon felt it too, there didn’t have to be anything keeping them apart.

Except, of course, for Devon’s job, which meant that they had to be discreet, at least for now. Meeting at the clinic was a risk if anyone found out their relationship had progressed beyond the purely therapeutic. But things were going to change when he wasn’t a client anymore. Kurt was already imagining himself saying “why yes, my sub does work at a dominant care clinic” as if it were completely average to have a boyfriend who knelt for other doms. Kurt was progressive and open-minded; Devon’s unusual career choice wouldn’t stand in the way of their love. And they could probably find some way to work around the “no marking” rule on Devon’s days off. But for now, he stifled the urge to bring Devon a bouquet of bright beautiful roses and nodded to the receptionist like he was any other patient at the clinic.

Today’s treatment room was a carbon copy of Thursday’s, except that instead of a sofa, it had a daybed with a polished iron frame and uncomfortable-looking bolsters. Kurt threw a few of its throw pillows onto the floor while he waited. Devon walked in right on time as always, looking so much healthier than he had on Thursday, and as soon as the door was shut, Kurt had to go to him.

“Good morning, sir.”

Devon’s shy smile was intoxicating, and Kurt was happy to be drunk on it. He pulled Devon into his arms and kissed him.

“Sir,” Devon said, halfheartedly protesting. “You should let me say my safewords.”

“I know your safewords. Yellow and red. And I know that you want to know how you can serve me, which is good, because that’s all I’ve been able to think about all weekend.”

“Really?” Devon sounded surprised.

“Of course.” Kurt’s heart was filled to overflowing. It was so sweet that Devon hadn’t expected Kurt to be thinking of him, but Kurt was going to make sure he didn’t feel forgotten or overlooked ever again. “Here, come sit with me.”

He led Devon over to the daybed, and gestured for him to sit. Kurt had everything he needed in his bag, but things had shifted inside the compartments since he left the apartment, and he had to reach around in the bag to find what he was looking for. “So how was your weekend?”

Devon looked surprised by the question. “Um. It was okay.”

“Do anything interesting?”

“Not really.”

Kurt tried not to sigh. He was doing everything he knew how to signal that he was interested, but Devon persisted in acting like Kurt would be bored by the minutiae of his everyday life. As though anything about Devon could ever be boring. “Okay. Give me one more second: I brought some stuff.”

“Sir?”

Kurt had a specific order in which he wanted to unveil the experience he’d created for the two of them. First the little travel speakers, which connected to his phone and started playing his custom playlist, all love songs and sweet 1970s soul. Then the scented candle, with its notes of vetiver, sandalwood and iris. Next came a burgundy coverlet of soft woven cotton, which he shook out to remove the creases. Devon watched him work silently, hands folded on his lap.

“I’m going to put this down on the daybed,” Kurt said. “If you’ll stand up?”

Devon stood and watched as Kurt smoothed the coverlet down. It didn’t quite go with the color scheme of the daybed, but it would do. He wiped his hands on his pants as he straightened back up, and smiled reassuringly over at Devon.

“Sir, if I may ask... what are you doing?”

“You may always ask,” Kurt said. “And I’m creating a mood. I can’t do anything about the lighting in here, unfortunately, but I’ve got something for every other sense. Sound. Smell. Touch. And...” He reached back into the bag one more time and pulled out the Tupperware container packed with ridiculously expensive organic strawberries. “Taste.” He popped one into Devon’s mouth.

Devon looked stunned, but he ate the strawberry. Kurt rubbed his arm, and thrilled as he felt Devon relaxing under even that simple touch. They were so beautifully connected.

“This is our space, and this is our time,” Kurt said, and he looked deep in Devon’s brown eyes. “Everything that happens in this little corner, that’s ours. No one else can touch it. Nothing that’s outside of this space matters, not now. The whole world is just you and me, and we’re together. And when you lie down on that blanket, you’re mine.”

Devon’s eyelashes fluttered close, and when his eyes reopened they were hazy with desire. He lay down on the daybed, slowly and deliberately, and looked up at Kurt again. The dark burgundy of the blanket set off Devon’s skin and his hair, and he looked ravishable.

Kurt smiled at him reassuringly. “My sweet boy.” He sat down next to Devon on the daybed, and leaned over to kiss him. “So good for me.”

Devon whimpered a little and held onto Kurt’s arm.

“It’s all right, baby. I’ve got you.” Kurt kissed him again, and Devon quieted. “I’m going to undress you now.”

Devon nodded and lifted his head and then his hips so Kurt could pull his shirt and pants off. He was beautiful: muscular but soft and enticing, with planes and curves defined just enough on his body that Kurt could trace them easily with his hands. Devon shuddered under his touch.

“You’re so smooth,” Kurt said.

“I wax,” Devon replied. He looked embarrassed at the admission.

“Lucky me,” Kurt said, and placed a kiss right at the center of Devon’s chest.

Devon made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Sir.”

“Just be still,” Kurt said. “Let me.”

Devon nodded fiercely and Kurt went back to his exploration. He traced the line of dark spots on Devon’s hip that marked him as a submissive, the curve of his ass, and the jut of his hipbone. He ran his fingers lightly up the back of Devon’s hard cock, teasing: Devon whimpered, but he stayed still, like Kurt had told him to. Kurt swallowed back the tears of pride and gratitude for this gorgeous, obedient boy. He was so lucky to have found Devon.

He moved his hands to Devon’s nipples, watching them harden and peak under his touch. He leaned down to lick one, and was rewarded with a gasp of pleasure from Devon, so he did it again on the other side.

“Please, sir. Can I touch you?”

Kurt took Devon’s hands in his and held them, pinning them to the daybed, and leaned over for a hot, hungry kiss on his mouth. “Not yet.” He kissed him again for good measure. “Soon.”

Carefully, making sure he wasn’t moving too far away, Kurt reached for his bag again and found the last things he’d left inside. He’d been thinking about it all weekend: what it would be like, how good it would feel. He knew he was ready, and he knew he wanted it to be with Devon. But knowing was different from saying the words. So he took out the lube and the condoms, stowed the bag under the day bed, and showed Devon what he had. “I want to,” he said. “If you’re willing.”

Devon took a long breath in. “I am,” he said softly. “Yes.”

Kurt knew his big grin was probably not right for the mood he was trying to set, but there was no way he could contain his joy at how perfect this moment was. “Good. Then you may undress me. If you’re careful.”

Devon scrambled to sit up. His hands were steady and his eyebrows drew together as he undid the buttons of Kurt’s blue button-down shirt, taking extra care with the buttons at the wrists. He helped Kurt out of the shirt and then just stayed there, his face close to Kurt’s shoulder, like he wanted to kiss Kurt there.

“Not yet,” Kurt said.

Devon nodded. He moved back far enough that he could help Kurt out of his undershirt. It was almost unbearably arousing to watch Devon obey his orders so sweetly. The shoes were next, and Kurt leaned over to untie them himself, but Devon climbed off the daybed and took over. He pulled each shoe off in turn, and then the sock, cradling each foot in his hands. Kurt was a little sorry they’d skipped the foot worship chapter in the textbook.

Still kneeling, Devon unbuckled Kurt’s belt, unbuttoned the fly on his pants, and looked to him for permission to continue. Kurt nodded, and Devon slowly pulled down Kurt’s pants, and then his underwear. The way he paused and dragged his fingers down the lines of Kurt’s dominant mark definitely skirted the edge of Kurt’s prohibition on touch, but it was so reverent, he couldn’t mind.

Kurt stepped out of the pile of clothing, fully naked with a sub for the first time, and achingly hard. Devon was still kneeling at his feet, looking up and waiting. Kurt remembered how good it had felt to have Devon’s mouth on his cock, but he couldn’t get distracted by that now. “On the bed.”

Devon lay down with his knees up and his legs spread. Kurt knelt between his legs, trying not to look nervous, and spread lubricant on his fingers. He knew how to do this, but it was one thing to read a pamphlet and another to put it in practice.

“Do you... do you want me to tell you how I like it, sir?”

Kurt was so thankful for Devon, and how he knew how to offer to help without taking the lead. “I want,” he said, and he teased the outside of Devon’s hole with his finger. “I want to do what I want with you.” The finger slid in, and Devon gasped. “I want you to take it.” Inside of Devon was so hot and so tight; Kurt moved his finger, watching Devon try not to squirm as he did it. He added another finger, and somehow it went in more easily. He tried different ways of moving his fingers, together and then separately as Devon relaxed around him. He stroked his fingers against one spot that had a different, softer texture than the rest. Devon moaned at that, and his cock twitched.

“Please, sir, please.”

He begged so beautifully, Kurt had to give him another finger. “Now,” Kurt said, leaning over him, “now you can touch me.”

Devon let out a sob of gratitude. He grasped at Kurt’s sides as Kurt kissed him, and then wrapped his arms around Kurt’s neck, pulling him in and deepening the kiss. Kurt hadn’t known that a kiss could be so yielding and so hungry all at once. Then Devon wrapped his legs around Kurt’s hips, ready but not demanding, and Kurt knew it was time. He fumbled with the condom wrapper and even though his hands were shaky, somehow he managed to put the thing on and slick himself up with more lube. Slowly, carefully, he lined up his cock and pushed in.

The heat and the tightness of Devon was overwhelming. Kurt felt like his whole body was catching fire, radiating out from where the two of them connected. The urge to pump, to move, to have more of this was like a giant wave crashing through him, but Kurt knew he had to wait. He had to do this right. He caught his breath, and he watched Devon’s face as Devon slowly relaxed around him.

“Are you ready?” Kurt asked.

“Green,” Devon whispered. “Green.”

Kurt started to move. Almost immediately, it was too much, too good, and he could feel the tightening in his balls that meant it would be over soon. So he stopped and tried to think about unsexy things. Carburetors. Mildew. Politics.

“Are you all right, sir?”

“I...” Kurt shook his head. “It’s just a lot. You’re amazing.”

Devon’s smile turned shy. “Sir.”

“I’m so glad it’s you,” Kurt admitted, and it was holding onto that, the gratitude and the love that he felt, that let him start moving again. It let him focus on Devon and the way his face went slack with pleasure, the way he wrapped his arms around Kurt and held on, the way he bit his lip as a tear tracked down his cheek. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” said Devon. “It’s perfect.”

He pulled Kurt down for a kiss, urging him on, and Kurt started moving a little faster, thrusting harder. He wanted everything that Devon could give him. His instincts were taking over — the same instincts that not so long ago had terrified him, but now they just felt right. He was meant to be here, moving inside this sweet boy, taking his pleasure from him, and offering him pleasure in turn.

Devon was beautiful beneath him, straining and moaning. Kurt felt enveloped in the heat of him, and yet also somehow not close enough. He kissed Devon’s face, his chest, his jawline, and Devon clutched at him, holding on. Kurt thrust harder, trying to keep the rhythm but losing himself to the urge for more, and harder, and now. Devon was moving with him, urging Kurt on, and his cock rubbed sticky trails against Kurt’s abdomen.

“Sir, I’m going to — I need to —”

“Come for me,” Kurt ordered, and Devon did, shooting thick strands of semen that splattered his body and got caught in Kurt’s chest hair. He convulsed with his pleasure, gorgeous and wanton and lost to it, and Kurt couldn’t hold on any more. The orgasm ripped through him like a wave, and he cried out as he came.

It took longer than Kurt would have expected to feel like he could ever move again, and he slowly pulled out of Devon’s body as Devon traced lazy careful fingers across his face. Kurt disposed of the condom in the plastic bag he’d brought for the purpose, and used two of his moist towelettes to clean them off. Then they lay together on the soft red blanket, lazily nuzzling at one another. Devon shifted so he could rest his head against Kurt’s chest, and Kurt held him as their heartbeats slowed to something normal again.

“That was...” Kurt tried. “That was...”

“Yeah,” Devon said softly. “It was.”

Kurt laughed a little and held him tighter. “I’d like to do this again,” he said.

Devon raised his head. He looked worried. “I don’t know...”

“I understand your fears,” Kurt said. He’d rehearsed this part at home in front of the mirror. “I would never want you to risk your job. But that’s not our only option. If you’re willing, I’d be honored if we made this thing between us official.” Devon looked stunned. Kurt took his hand and looked deep into his lovely brown eyes. “I want to be with you as your dom: not here, but out there. In the world, where it counts. I want to take you to dinner, and concerts, and movies. And to my bed.” He used his free hand to touch the plastic mask Devon wore. “I’d like to get to know you beneath this thing.”

Devon took a deep, sharp breath at that, and pulled away, levering himself up to a half-seated position. “No.”

“What?”

“No. I don’t — we can’t be together like that. I’m sorry, but no.” Devon awkwardly stood up and started putting his uniform back on. “No.”

“Devon, please.” Kurt was stunned. “I love you.”

Devon shook his head. “You don’t. Not really. You’ve got all these new hormones sloshing around inside of you and you think it’s love, but it’s not. It’s just a physical release. That’s all this is.”

“No.” Kurt sat up, naked and cold. “It’s more than that. You know it is.”

“It’s not,” Devon said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let it go this far.” He pulled his shirt back over his head. “I should go. I’ll tell the aides that you wanted a few minutes alone to collect yourself before I reset the room, all right?”

“Please don’t do this.” Kurt felt like his insides were being torn apart. He’d started to cry and he didn’t care.

“I’m not what you want,” Devon said firmly. “You don’t even know me. When you really fall in love with someone —” He paused and he shook his head, like he was thinking of someone. Someone else? Was Devon in love with someone else? Just the thought of it was like getting slammed into a hundred school lockers all at once. “You’ll know the difference. I’m sorry, Kurt.”

“Please,” Kurt said again, but Devon was already gone.


	7. Chapter 7

The next few days were a grey and miserable blur for Blaine. He didn’t talk to Kurt in school, and he didn’t see Kurt at the clinic. He went to work, he went to school, he went home, that was all.

Sam had come home late the day of that last wonderful awful time with Kurt. He’d found Blaine on the couch, watching cartoons and eating his way through a box of Lucky Charms. Sam had opened his mouth like he was going to say something and then closed it again before he went into the kitchen to get himself a bowl and a spoon. Blaine didn’t tell him what had happened, and Sam didn’t push, but he let Blaine cry himself to sleep on his shoulder that first night, and he’d been an amazing friend all the way through.

“Sweetie,” said Mercedes, “this isn’t about a role in a school play.”

It was Sunday afternoon, and Sam had gone out to run some errands, so the two of them were alone in the apartment. The sun was streaming in through the tall front windows, and Mercedes looked so kind and gentle, for a moment Blaine wanted to tell her everything. But she was Kurt’s friend as well as Sam’s domme, so that wasn’t even an option.

“No,” he said. “It’s not.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she said. “But I hope you know that you’ve got people on your side, Blaine. Sam loves you like a brother. Which means you’d matter to me even if I didn’t think you were an adorable little ray of sunshine. I hate seeing you so down on yourself.”

“Thank you.” Blaine was trying not to cry again. Being miserable had made all of emotions so raw that even this bit of kindness was threatening to set him off. “I like you too.”

She moved a little closer to him on the couch and took his hand. “You tell me if I’m overstepping, but I was thinking. If you feel like you need it — like you need to be punished for what’s got you like this, whatever it is, in order to get over it? I would be honored if you’d let me take care of it. I know I’m not your domme, so it wouldn’t be the same thing, but if it would help?” She shrugged. “I know my way around a paddle. And Sam’s down with it if you are.”

Blaine was really trying hard not to cry now. His friends were the best. “That’s so thoughtful, Mercedes. Thank you. Thank you both.”

“So?” she said after he’d managed to get himself back under control. “What do you think?”

Blaine thought about it. The idea of taking discipline that was really about him and what he needed felt appealing after so many months of intentionally impersonal interactions at the clinic. Maybe Sam had been right all along that that wasn’t enough. But on the other hand, when Blaine looked back on everything that had happened with Kurt, there wasn’t anything he felt like he needed to be punished for. Fired, maybe, though he hoped not. But there was nothing that felt disobedient or unsubmissive. He hadn’t done anything he couldn’t live with, once he got past how sad it all made him.

“I think I’ll be okay,” he told her, and he patted her hand.

He held it together when he went to school on Monday and saw Kurt looking perfect and polished as ever. It was Kurt’s turn to perform in class again, this time in a scene from _Henry IV, Part II_. Kurt was so good as the young prince who must grow into being a king, and Blaine was so proud of him. He held it together when he came home, and Sam had to eat dinner standing up “because, you know, man.” Sam had rubbed his ass suggestively, and Blaine managed an encouraging smile because that was what best friends did. He didn’t think about Kurt. But in the morning, on his way to work, he checked his email and saw an updated schedule from the clinic, with K0412 back in the 11:15 timeslot that Kurt usually chose, and he felt like he was breaking apart.

For a wild moment, he thought about not going: quitting his job, maybe even dropping out of school and starting over somewhere else. Anything to not have to face Kurt again. But he remembered his conversation with Mercedes. He hadn’t done anything wrong, not yet. But denying Kurt the chance to talk about what had happened between them, that would be wrong. He had to do this. He braced himself as he walked into the treatment room.

“Good morning, sir. My name is Devon. My safewords are yellow and red. How may I serve you?”

“Is this some kind of joke?”

“I don’t think so?” Blaine said. Kurt’s anger made him cautious. “I didn’t request it.”

“We’ll see about this,” Kurt said, and stormed out past him. They didn’t touch.

They were in the same treatment room they’d been in the last time. The daybed was restored to its normal look, piled high with ugly floral pillows, and Blaine knew there was nothing left to even hint at what had happened there. He’d been very diligent in cleaning up. But even being back in the room was enough to bring it all back to him. How good it had felt to submit to Kurt completely. How thoughtful and generous Kurt had been with him. How hard it had been to snap back to the cold reality beyond the fantasy Kurt had built for them. He knew that if he showed Kurt who he was behind the mask, Kurt would reject him again, and he didn’t think he could bear that. So it was better this way, for both of them. It was what had to be. But still Blaine couldn’t help wishing it was different.

Kurt came back in, radiating a quiet fury. “It was a mistake,” he said. “I didn’t ask not to be booked with you, and they just assumed.” He set his jaw. “I told them not to do it again.”

That stung, but Blaine nodded and tried to keep his expression neutral. “Maybe they could switch you to another sub.”

“You think I didn’t ask? There’s no one available, and they’ll charge my insurance for this hour anyway. I only have four visits left.” Kurt shook his head. “It’s this or nothing.”

Blaine’s chest felt tight. “If you want, sir, it would still be an honor to serve you. Appropriately.”

“Of course,” Kurt said, and his tone was cutting. “Ours is a strictly therapeutic interaction.”

Blaine bowed his head and said nothing.

“All right,” said Kurt. “Against the wall, by the manacles. Take your shirt off.”

The orders were sharp and cold, but at least they were orders, and Blaine knew how to respond to them. He did as he was told, and when he raised his arms for the cuffs, Kurt snapped, “Stop _helping_ me,” so he lowered them again, and waited.

Kurt pushed his wrists into the manacles then stalked off to the supply drawers. Blaine could hear things clanking and shifting. He wanted to see what was happening, but instinct told him to keep still, so he focused on the beige painted wall in front of him.

“Spread your legs,” Kurt said when he came back.

Blaine did, and Kurt affixed the cuff of a spreader bar to one ankle, and then moved Blaine’s leg until he could lock the bar in place on the other side as well.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. No more talking. Unless it’s a safeword, I don’t want to hear it. Understand?”

Blaine swallowed hard and nodded, and Kurt stepped back.

The sting of the crop took Blaine by surprise. It wasn’t a heavy blow, but it hurt. He shifted his weight as much as he could in the spreader bar and waited for the next one.

It came down harder than the first, and then there was another, and another, and another. There wasn’t a rhythm or a pattern he could relax into: the tempo and the force of the blows kept changing. Blaine lowered his head and tried to just take it. If this was what Kurt needed to get past the pain and the anger, then it was what Blane wanted too.

Kurt kept going, longer than he’d ever done before in a scene. Blaine’s entire back ached, and he could feel the air against the places where the skin had broken. It had always been so easy to let go and submit for Kurt, but he was struggling with it now. He felt like he owed Kurt real submission: that was his job, Kurt was his _client_. But this wasn’t Kurt discovering his own dominance, this was a punishment, and it was hard to take a punishment he knew he didn’t deserve. All he could focus on was how much it hurt, and how uncomfortable he was, and how sad.

Kurt hit him one more time with the crop, hard, and then Blaine heard it fall to the ground.

“Red,” Kurt said thickly. “Red. I’m safewording out.”

Blaine was trying to turn to see what was going on when he felt Kurt’s hands on his ankle, releasing him from the spreader bar. Kurt opened the cuffs on the manacles as well, and then stepped away. Blaine turned around and studied Kurt confusedly. He looked weary, and his eyes were red.

“You’re not submitting to me,” Kurt said flatly. “You’re letting me do it, but you’re not —. Was it always an act?”

Blaine shook his head emphatically no.

“I could whip you until you couldn’t stand up straight for _weeks_ , and it wouldn’t change anything. I wanted to hurt you for hurting me and I won’t, I won’t do that.”

Blaine didn’t know what to say to that, or even if he should say anything.

“I don’t know what you were thinking. Why you let me believe you actually felt something for me. That I wasn’t just another client. But it was cruel, Devon. And I won’t be cruel to you in turn. Not like that.”

There was nothing Blaine could say. His insides were a knot and he didn’t even know if he would be able to speak if he tried. So he dropped to his knees, and he hoped that would be enough.

Kurt looked like he’d been struck. He wrapped his arms around himself and shook his head. “Goodbye, Devon,” he said, and he left.

When Blaine made it back to the lounge, the only other sub there was Sara, who he didn’t know very well. She was drinking a diet cola and filing her nails before her next session. When he took off his top to change, she whistled in surprise. “Intense.”

Blaine shrugged.

“Put anything on that yet?”

“I’m fine.” He felt weird, like he was watching himself from outside of himself, and his fingers were clumsy on the buttons of his street clothes.

“The hell you are,” she told him. “Come here, _mijo_. You need someone to take care of you.”

Blaine wanted it to keep hurting. He didn’t feel like he deserved anything else. But some rational part of his brain knew she was right, so he sighed and sat down on the couch and let her help him. The aloe gel they kept in the lounge was soothing on his back, and she rubbed it in with long, slow circles. Blaine closed his eyes and tried not to think.

*****

It felt ridiculous to Kurt, being in Shakespeare class and acting like he was enjoying a comedy scene when he was so hollow and broken inside.

He’d thought he’d found love, but it was a mirage, a trick that Devon had played on him, for — what? For his own release? For the thrill of taking Kurt’s virginity? Kurt still didn’t know, but in the end it didn’t really matter why. It was enough to know that it had all been a lie.

Kurt had felt so angry and so betrayed, he’d turned into everything he’d ever feared he would be: violent and irresponsible and a little bit psycho. He was grateful he’d had enough control to stop when he realized the crop was drawing blood. He still loved Devon, even if Devon had never loved him. He didn’t want Devon’s memory of him to be tied up with some disfiguring scar.

Even though Kurt was heartbroken, the world still went on, and Kurt had to go along with it and pretend nothing was wrong. He ate dinner with Rachel at her favorite vegan restaurant and swapped gossip about their classmates. He listened to Mercedes’ new demo and sent her upbeat, enthusiastic feedback. And now here he was in Shakespearean Acting, trying to keep his head in today’s assignment.

They had a guest professor this week, the director Richard Halifax. He wore the leather collar that marked him as a married sub, but he commanded the room with a gentle certainty that had everyone enthralled. In Monday’s class, he’d talked about the challenges of the large climactic scenes in Shakespeare’s comedies, which brought multiple storylines together on stage. Today, they were acting one of those scenes out as a class. It was an unpolished performance, with just the most basic blocking and everyone still on book, but the idea was to go through it once, discuss it, and then do it again. Kurt would have been excited for it, if he could feel excited about anything right now.

The scene was from the end of _Much Ado About Nothing_ , when Beatrice finally claimed Benedick, but not before a whole bunch of other business got wrapped up. Hero, Beatrice’s cousin, had been playing dead after a plot to ruin his reputation and destroy Claudio, his promised dom. When Hero’s reputation was restored, Hero’s father, Don Leonato, insisted that Claudio take another sub from Leonato’s household, sight unseen, in recompense, and when Claudio agreed, Leonato brought out Hero in disguise. Kurt was one of the minor lords, and his whole job was to watch the goings-on attentively and react.

Someone had found some masquerade eye masks for Hero’s entrance surrounded by his attendants. The masks had sequins and glitter and feathers on them, but they still reminded Kurt of Devon, and the mask he wouldn’t let Kurt see behind.

Blaine was playing Hero, which made sense: he had that whole ingenue thing going for him. He was wearing a ridiculous mask in a cats-eye shape, but he somehow still managed to look demure for the role. There was something else different about him too, something that Kurt couldn’t quite place. He tried not to be too obvious in looking.

“Which is the sub that I must seize upon?” asked the student playing Claudio, looking nervous.

The woman playing the queen took Blaine’s hand and brought him forward. “This same is he, and we do give you him.”

Blaine looked down, modest and coy, and there it was again, something in the angle of his bowed head that felt familiar and wrong all at once.

Claudio took a deep gulp. “Why, then he's mine. Sweet, let me see your face.”

Kurt winced.

Simon, who was playing Leonato, raised his hand in warning. “No, you shall not, until you take his hand/Before this friar and swear your claim to him.”

Claudio nodded. “Give me your hand,” he said to Blaine. “Before this holy friar/I am your dominant, if you like of me.”

Blaine stepped past Simon, and took his place by his Claudio’s side. His eyes shone with adoration in a way Kurt had never seen on Blaine before, and yet somehow he knew it anyway. “And when I lived, I was your other sub.”

Kurt and the rest of the class played at looking confused.

“And when you loved, you were my other dominant.” Blaine pulled off the mask and revealed his face.

The rest of the cast was meant to seem astonished and even more confused at the reappearance of Hero. But there was a ringing in Kurt’s ears, and the confusion was real.

He waited until he was home alone in loft before he pulled out his laptop and typed _“Blaine Anderson NYADA”_ into the search bar. Like a lot of NYADA students, Blaine had a personal website to showcase his headshots and his credits. Kurt’s heart was pounding as he clicked the link. He couldn’t have seen what he thought he saw. It couldn’t be true. But he had to know for sure.

There were two pictures on the page, both headshot-perfect. One was the Blaine he saw in school, with his hair lacquered into place, his retro-nerd style, and his big bright smile. The other picture -- his hair curly and wild, the shirt half-open, the smile soft and knowing -- was a boy Kurt knew from somewhere else. The page title went over them both: _Blaine Devon Anderson._

Kurt buried his head in his hands.


	8. Chapter 8

Blaine had started to get used to missing Kurt. Maybe that was the wrong word, _missing_ , since he still saw Kurt twice a week in class. But their friendship had chilled and turned awkward since the day Blaine asked Kurt out. Professor Miller hadn’t put them in the same performance group again, so it wasn’t unusual for them not to even say hi in class, even if Blaine couldn’t help noticing what Kurt was wearing and doing. Even when the whole class performed together in _Much Ado_ , Kurt was out the classroom door as soon as it was over. Blaine had done really well as Hero — even Richard Halifax had said so, which was thrilling. But Kurt hadn’t even caught his eye.

They hadn’t had another session at the clinic, which was no surprise: Kurt’s goodbye to Devon had been a final one. Blaine didn’t even know if Kurt had been back to the clinic at all. It wasn’t like anyone was going to break confidentiality to tell him. He had the same sorts of clients as always: the widowers and the anxious and the lonely. Nothing was different, but everything felt different. The job had felt like enough before, helping people who needed help. But being with Kurt had given him a taste of what it might be like to have a dom who needed him, not just any random sub the clinic might assign. A dom that he would need too.

What he'd had with Kurt wasn't really like that, of course. Kurt had fallen in love with the fantasy of Devon, the perfect sub. Thinking about it over the last week, Blaine had to admit that he'd probably fallen for a fantasy version of Kurt as well. It wasn't like they'd known each other so deeply that Blaine couldn’t fill in the blanks the way he wanted. But beneath all of that was the connection he'd felt when they performed and when they had sex. That had been real, Blaine was sure of it. And that was most of what Blaine missed: the connection with Kurt, and the hope that it could turn into something more.

So when Kurt stopped him in the hall coming out of his theater history class, his breath caught and his heart pounded, even as he tried to seem cool.

“Can we talk?” Kurt asked, and Blaine nodded because yes, of course, he wanted to talk to Kurt, even if right now it felt like he’d forgotten how.

They walked down the hall until they came to an empty and open classroom. They went inside and Kurt pulled the door almost all the way shut. Blaine fidgeted with his bookbag while he tried to think of something to say.

“What’s up?” he finally managed.

Kurt gave him a level, considering look. “I have something of yours,” he said. He opened the complicated buckles on his bag and reached in. “You said you wanted it back.”

Kurt held out a book: a battered white textbook with its title in blocky blue lettering. _Introduction to Dominance_. His face was impassive.

Blaine had wondered how he’d handle it if this moment ever happened. He’d played it out in his head on long subway rides and late at night when he couldn’t sleep. But he couldn’t have imagined how sick he would feel — not from the truth finally coming out, but from Kurt looking at him like that, like Blaine wasn’t even worth getting upset over.

There was nothing else to do, so he took the book back. “Thank you,” he said. The blue line drawing of a claim bracelet on the cover stared up at him like a bad joke.

“I just want to know why,” Kurt said. “I think you owe me that, at least.”

“I’m sorry,” Blaine said.

“That’s not an answer.” Kurt’s voice shook a little, like he was working to keep himself under control. “I’ve been trying to figure it out. Was it funny to you, Blaine? Were you laughing behind my back at how naive I was?”

“Kurt, no.” Blaine looked up, hoping Kurt would see the truth of it in his face. Kurt was trembling a little behind the impassive facade, and his eyes were determined and furious.

“Or were you just using me to get laid?” he asked, and his voice was like a whip.

“How can you even —”

“You did kiss me first. You kissed me, and you, you begged —” Kurt swallowed hard. “You begged me for sex.”

“I’m sorry,” Blaine said again. His stomach flipped queasily.

Kurt looked surprised. “You’re sorry. Okay. That’s a start. So when you asked me out, were you going to tell me the truth then? Or was that going to be another quick fuck?”

“This has all been really confusing for me too, you know.”

“Really. Because it seems to me that you were the only one who actually knew what was going on.”

The miserable tangle that Blaine’s heart and mind had been caught in for the last few weeks didn’t make him feel like he knew anything. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” Kurt insisted. “You could have said yes when I asked you out. You could have told me then.”

Blaine could feel his nausea turning into a hard ball of anger behind his ribs. “Right. I could’ve told you then. We just had really intense sex with mood music and fancy strawberries and mind-blowing orgasms. But oh, by the way, I’m the sub you turned down when he asked you out for dinner after class. That would have worked just swell.”

“You think I said no because, what, I - I didn’t like you? That you weren’t cute enough, or, or you were bad at Shakespeare? No. I wasn’t going to go out with you, Blaine, because I was already in love with Devon.” Kurt looked genuinely upset. “I loved you, and I didn’t even know it. My head was so full of you that I couldn’t see you right in front of me.”

Blaine scoffed. “Your head was full of some stupid fantasy you had about a clinic sub.”

“That’s ridiculous. You think I don’t know the difference between a fantasy and the real thing?”

“Real?” Blaine was at the point of anger where the tears were going to start soon, and he had to get out of there before he cried in front of Kurt and humiliated himself. “If it was real, you would have recognized me. At some point before now, Kurt, you would have seen me for who I really am.”

It was a good line to storm out on, so he did. He rode the train home clutching his bookbag tightly, like the textbook might jump out at any moment and tell everyone in the subway car what had happened. It was just his luck with doms that when one finally said ‘I love you,’ it was already in the past tense.

*****

If there was one thing Kurt Hummel believed fully, it was that wallowing was a waste of time. Sure, he was miserable. He’d had love in his grasp and he’d lost it. Who wouldn’t be miserable? But after a couple of late nights eating popcorn and watching Bette Davis movies, he knew he had to pull himself together. He had NYADA to conquer. All the dreams he’d come to New York with were still in his grasp. But that didn’t mean it was easy.

He’d never really noticed Blaine in the halls at school before, but now it seemed like he was everywhere Kurt went. Talking with his friends in the lobby, bounding up the stairs with a bright smile, emerging from dance class sweaty and disheveled. Kurt watched him go and he wondered how he could have ever been so blind. Everything about Blaine — his grace, his kindness, and his beauty — was something Kurt had loved in Devon. But things were so messed up between them. Kurt had been cruel to Blaine in the clinic and again when he confronted him at school. It didn’t seem very likely that Blaine would want to give him a third chance after all that, even if he knew what to say or how to begin. So instead Kurt did the only thing he knew would cheer him up: he went shopping.

There was an end of season sale at the Marc Jacobs men’s accessories boutique on West 4th, and Kurt bought a hat and two scarves. It was a nice afternoon, so he walked for a while down Bleecker Street, past the quiet brownstones towards the heart of the NYU campus. He was almost never down there, so he let himself play tourist for a little, gawking at the cheesy bars and loud music venues. FINE ART • VINTAGE • MOVIE POSTERS, one store’s sign proclaimed, and there was a big poster of Audrey Hepburn in _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_ right at the entrance. Kurt went inside to look around.

There was an old black man behind the counter; he barely looked up as Kurt walked in. There were posters of musicians, of the city, of famous artworks, but Kurt made a beeline back to the movie section. He could use something for over his bed. Some vintage Cary Grant poster maybe, or Paul Newman in _Cat on a Hot Tin Roof._ He was flipping through the stacks of reproductions — why did so many people want movie posters in Italian? — when he saw it, and he caught his breath. The lettering said _“BARBARA STANWYCK has HENRY FONDA Bewitched and Bewildered as_ The Lady Eve _. Another Preston Sturges Hit!”_ The two stars were caught in an embrace: she certain and loving, he more serious and a little confused. It was perfect, in more ways than one.

When he took it up to the register, the ridiculousness of his plan caught up with him, and he almost turned back. Was he really going to walk up to Blaine with a movie poster? And then what?

“So do you want it or not?” asked the man behind the counter in a bored New York accent.

“Um. Could you mail it for me?”

The man looked at him consideringly. “If I mail it, it’s not cheap. Post office is around the corner, kid; save yourself a few bucks. I’ll give you the mailing tube for a dollar fifty.”

“Okay,” Kurt said. “Thank you.”

At the post office, he pulled a sheet of paper out of his notebook and wrote the simplest note he could think of. _I’m sorry. Can we try to talk again? It would mean a lot to me._ Right before he got to the window, he added another line: _In faith, I do not love thee with my eyes._ The sentiment of the rest of Shakespeare’s sonnet didn’t really fit, but he hoped Blaine would understand what he was going for. He stuffed the note into the mailer, sealed it tight, and when he handed to the postal clerk he didn’t hesitate at all.

*****

The ride out to Bushwick from Blaine’s Inwood apartment took forever, and the whole way, as the mechanical subway announcements called out the next stop, he asked himself _why am I doing this?_ He could talk to Kurt at school; he could send him an email; he could probably even get his phone number from Sam, who’d been happy enough to share directions when asked. Kurt might not even be home when Blaine got there, or he might not be able to talk freely. He might have changed his mind, and not want to talk at all. It was a long way to go for nothing, but Blaine was going anyway. He wished he felt more certain about it.

He stood in front of the big metal door at the end of Sam’s directions and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He thought about the note that had come with Kurt’s gift. _I’m sorry_. And below that, written more hastily, _love_. Blaine squared his shoulders and knocked.

The door slid open and Kurt was there. He looked surprised, but he gestured to welcome Blaine inside.

“Hi,” Blaine said. He unbuttoned his coat, and Kurt held out a hand to take it.

“You’re — how are you here?” Kurt asked. “Did you get my — wait. How did you get my address?” He looked confused but not angry.

“From Sam,” Blaine said. Kurt still looked confused. “You know, Sam Evans? He’s seeing Mercedes? He’s my best friend.”

“Oh. That Sam. He seems very nice.” Kurt blinked hard. “Well, thank you for coming. Please, sit down.”

Kurt disappeared with Blaine’s coat, and Blaine sat and looked around at the apartment. It was an open loft with two curtained-off corners, and light coming in gauzily through paper-covered windows. The furniture was a mix of Ikea and vintage and — wait, was that an actual car seat? The overall effect was fashionable and comfortable all at once, the sort of place Blaine would have lingered over in a magazine spread. Kurt came back and sat down on the opposite end of the sofa.

Blaine wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t this. Kurt was watching him like he might be dangerous. He was sitting as far away as he could on the sofa, leaning on the arm and crossing his legs away from Blaine.

“I hope it’s okay that I came,” Blaine said.

“Of course,” Kurt said. “I guess I’m a little surprised, to be honest. I wasn’t expecting you. But it’s good! It’s good.” He nodded like he was trying to convince himself. “Did you get the poster?”

“Don’t send me gifts at school.” That wasn’t what Blaine had planned to say, but it was what came out. He remembered being called out of class, how the admin at the front desk had looked him up and down and smirked when she handed him the mailing tube. “People talk. I don’t want people gossiping and making assumptions about my personal life. Such as it is.”

“I didn’t think,” Kurt said. “I’m sorry.”

He seemed actually sorry, and Blaine was sorry too. It was the wrong way to start. He’d already screwed up. “That’s okay. It was a nice gift. Thanks.”

Kurt looked down at his perfectly polished shoes.

Everything Blaine wanted to say was all jumbled up inside him, pushing and shoving to get out until his throat was tight and his chest felt like it was going to explode. “Kurt, I’m so —”

Kurt’s words came out all in a rush, like he was exploding on the inside too. “I hope you know I sent it because I’m sorry, Blaine.”

There was a long pause where it seemed like they both needed to catch their breath. Blaine could feel his pulse fluttering fast against his skin.

“I interrupted,” Kurt said. "You first.”

“No, that’s fine.” Blaine pressed his fingernails hard into his palm. The little bit of pain helped him calm down enough to focus. “I want you to know I never meant to hurt you. That wasn’t why I did anything.”

“I get that now.” Kurt sighed. “I know you think I should have been able to see right through the mask, and know that Devon was you and you were Devon. But when I want something, I get a little, um, focused. You know I only applied to one school? Just NYADA. And when I didn’t get in, I tried again. That’s why I’m a mid-year.”

“Wow.” Blaine had applied to seven schools after intense research to determine his optimal fit. NYADA had still come out on top, of course.

“And Devon was really — he was really important to me. Even before we, you know.” Kurt looked down. “And maybe you’re right that it was just some weirdo sex fantasy, but —”

“Kurt, no. There was nothing weird about it.” Blaine moved a little closer to Kurt on the couch. “There was a connection between us from the very first session. I felt it too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course. But beyond that, I wanted you to like me for me. For who I am. Not because I was some care clinic sub who had to obey you.”

“First of all,” Kurt said, and he turned so he was sitting facing Blaine, “I think we both know that if all you did was obey me, I’d still be in that very first treatment room, shaking to death.”

Blaine had to laugh, and he felt a little less tense from it. “You would have needed to eat eventually.”

“That’s what I liked about you from the beginning. That you knew your own mind. I felt safe with you.” Kurt shrugged. “I know the dom’s supposed to be the one who makes the sub feel safe, but...”

“Don’t apologize for that, Kurt.” Blaine moved a little closer. He wanted more than anything to take Kurt’s hand, to be touching him somehow, but Kurt’s hands were still folded on his lap. “You always made me feel safe too.”

“Even after that last time?” Kurt’s voice was barely a whisper. “I wasn’t safe with you.”

Blaine remembered Sara talking about the weather, distracting him while she put bandages on his back. He’d been so miserable and lost, but... “You knew enough to stop,” Blaine said. “You knew you were unsafe and you stopped it. That was the right thing to do. I shouldn’t have been there, I was going to call in sick.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Kurt said. “That part, at least, was all my fault.”

“Kurt...”

“I’m so sorry, Blaine.” Kurt’s face was open and clear, and he looked completely earnest and so beautiful.

“I’m sorry too,” Blaine said. “For everything else.”

Kurt smiled for the first time since Blaine had arrived. “Well. It wasn’t all your fault. But I’ll accept your apology if you’ll accept mine, for everything I got wrong.”

“Apology accepted,” Blaine said. He smiled, and Kurt smiled back, and they just sat there on the couch, smiling at each other. It was sweet, and it was a relief, but Blaine wanted more. He steeled himself and was brave one more time. “Kurt? Will you kiss me?”

Kurt took a breath. “You — you’d still want that?”

“God, yes,” said Blaine. “Please.”

Kurt leaned over and kissed him hard at that. He wrapped his hand around Blaine’s head, pulling at the fine hair at the base of Blaine’s scalp, and Blaine arched into it, relieved and aroused and almost unbearably happy.

Kurt pulled back just enough to study Blaine’s face. It would make him feel self-conscious, except Kurt looked so dazed and so fond. “Blaine,” he said. “ _Blaine._ ”

Blaine was absolutely not going to cry. “Kurt. Sir.”

Kurt kissed him again and again. “What do you want?” he asked. “I want to take care of you, Blaine. I want it to be so good.”

A dizzying array of possibilities flashed through Blaine’s mind. All the things they hadn’t done together, all the things Blaine had never tried but wanted, everything that he’d ever fantasized. But he stopped himself before he got too lost in it. They ought to talk before they tried anything new. And to be honest, Blaine just wanted to experience this moment, in Kurt’s apartment, on his couch, wrapped up in his arms. “I — I want you to take me to bed. Chain me to your bed and fuck me. Just that. If you’d like that.”

Kurt squeezed his eyes closed like he was trying to control himself. “Uh. Yeah,” he said, opening his eyes. “Let’s do that.” He frowned. “But I don’t have cuffs.”

“Oh.”

Kurt winced. “I hadn’t really needed them, and a good set isn’t cheap.” His face cleared. “Oh, wait. I have an idea.” He pointed to one of the curtained-off corners. “That’s my room. Go. I’ll be right there.”

He kissed Blaine one more time and headed off to the other side of the apartment. Blaine watched him go for a moment, appreciating his determined, long-legged walk, and then hurried into Kurt’s bedroom. It was small but perfect, and the bed had a headboard that looked reassuringly sturdy. Blaine peeled off his clothes as quickly as he could and arranged himself on the bed to look enticing.

Kurt came through the curtains and stopped, hand still holding the curtains aside. “Look at you,” he said. “God, just look at you.”

Blaine’s heart was pounding loud in his chest. “Sir.”

Kurt held up a pair of bright purple cuffs covered in rhinestones, connected by a length of sparkly purple chain. “These are Rachel’s. She’s always clean, and I wiped them off again just now to be sure.”

“She won’t mind?”

Kurt shrugged. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Are you ready?”

Blaine was ready, he was beyond ready, and he followed Kurt with his eyes as he carefully snapped the cuffs into place, running the chain between them through the headboard with just enough give that he could move. It felt so simple and right, like a weight in his chest was gone.

Kurt stepped out of his shoes and started unbuttoning his shirt. The sight of Kurt’s smooth pale skin and the memory of how good it felt to touch him made Blaine let out a small hungry sound. Kurt froze in place, startled. He was a little pink with embarrassment, but he turned and he met Blaine’s eyes. Slowly, he pulled the shirt down off one shoulder, then the other. Taking his time. Showing off. For Blaine. Blaine felt like his face would break open from how wide he was smiling.

Kurt undid his belt and ran the strap through his hands consideringly. Blaine could almost feel it against his skin. He moaned in anticipation. Kurt smiled, and put it aside.

"This isn’t like the clinic, where we only had an hour," Kurt said, unbuttoning his jeans. “And Rachel’s off doing god-knows-what till dinner. So I’m going to take my time with you. Because I can.”

“Please,” Blaine said as eagerly as he could. “Oh, Kurt, yes.”

When he was naked, Kurt climbed onto the bed. He hovered over Blaine, holding himself up on his hands and knees. Blaine didn’t know what to do as Kurt looked at him consideringly. Then Kurt leaned down to kiss him, dirty and wild, and Blaine kissed back, struggling against the cuffs for more contact.

“Those have a failsafe,” Kurt said. “You push the button on the side, you can get out of them anytime.”

“I know,” Blaine said. He pulled at the cuffs again, rattling the chain loudly. “Green.”

Kurt grinned and kissed him again. “Good.” He moved down the bed just enough to bite lightly at Blaine’s nipple, teasing. “Make as much noise as you want, Blaine. I want to hear it.”

After that there was nothing but Kurt’s hands and his lips on Blaine’s body, and the sound of Kurt’s voice, and the way he made Blaine cry out. Kurt was exploring him, kissing and touching and nuzzling his way across Blaine’s body. It was the easiest of instincts to let go and let the sensation take over. He felt safe with Kurt, and he knew it would be good.

When Kurt licked a tentative slow stripe up Blaine’s cock, Blaine’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he made a noise that apparently Kurt liked a lot, because he did it again. There was a pillow shoved under Blaine’s hips, and then Kurt’s hands were on the back of Blaine’s thighs, and on his ass, and he was peppering Blaine’s inner thighs with kisses and light bites. Blaine was almost unbearably turned on by it all, and when Kurt’s fingers, wet with lube, teased at his hole, he let out a sob of gratitude and anticipation.

Kurt took his time working Blaine open, and Blaine was half-floating by the time he heard the crinkle of the condom packet. And then Kurt was inside him and above him, filling him and holding him, and Blaine gave himself over to the feeling of it. When Kurt told him to come, the pleasure went all the way up his spine, and he pulled on the cuffs as he spasmed with it. Kurt kept moving inside him, hard and sure, and when he came, he collapsed on Blaine’s chest, breathing heavily. It took a few moments before he collected himself enough to pull out and move away. Blaine felt emptied and untethered, but Kurt’s smile as he released the handcuffs helped. Kurt hung the chain from the edge of the headboard, and then kissed him again. Blaine put his hands on Kurt’s arms, and the touch was enough to ground him.

“I was careful,” Kurt said. He took Blaine’s wrists and gently massaged them, one after the other. “You shouldn’t have hickeys or bitemarks.”

“Okay?” Blaine was still a little fuzzy around the edges.

“For the clinic,” Kurt said. “I don’t want to get in the way of your job.”

“Oh. Oh.” Blaine pulled his hands back, and rubbed his own wrists. “Thanks. I should have said, though. I quit.”

Kurt frowned. “It wasn’t because of what happened with me, was it?”

“No. Well, yes, but —”

“I don’t want to cost you your job.”

“It’s not like that,” Blaine said. He tried to figure out how to express it. How after all the misery and confusion, he’d found clarity again. “The clinic... it’s a good job, but I was using it for the wrong things. I was pretending. Not just with you, with myself. I told myself it was enough to be Devon, that I didn’t need anything else. But it wasn’t true, and I ended up making a mess of both parts of my life as a result.”

“Blaine...”

“It was the right choice,” Blaine said. “I just want to spend a little time being myself for a change.”

Kurt gave him a look that was pleased and surprised and something Blaine couldn’t quite name. He leaned over and kissed Blaine gently and they lay in Kurt’s bed together, holding hands.

After a while, Kurt pulled Blaine into the too-small tub with him for a shower. They soaped each other up with Kurt’s scented shower gel, and Kurt took extra care soaping up and cleaning Blaine’s back and ass. The attention made Blaine half-hard again, and Kurt’s hand took care of the rest. Kurt pulled Blaine’s back close against his chest, his own growing arousal between the cheeks of Blaine’s ass, and with a little bit of conditioner in the place of lube, he worked Blaine’s cock. Blaine leaned back against his strong chest, letting Kurt take some of his weight, because he knew Kurt would hold him.

“You’re so lovely,” Kurt whispered in his ear, and something behind Blaine’s eyes went white as he came. When he came back to himself, he went down to his knees, and took Kurt in his mouth. It was his first time on his knees for Kurt like this, as himself, and it felt even better than it had in the clinic. He tried to show Kurt that with his mouth and his tongue, with his hands on Kurt’s thighs and his balls. Kurt clutched at his hair, and his cock bumped against the back of Blaine’s mouth, and it was almost too much when Kurt came with a dazed and choked cry.

Blaine swallowed as much as he could before Kurt, his cock still twitching, pulled out and dropped down to sit. He pulled Blaine towards him and they kissed, lazy and sweet, while the shower rained warm water down on them, washing them clean.

Finally, they returned to bed and curled up in each other’s arms for a nap. Kurt ran his hand through Blaine’s still-damp hair. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize it was you,” he said quietly. “I was so stupid.”

“Not stupid,” Blaine said. He nuzzled a little closer. “You know, in _Twelfth Night_ , Orsino never realizes that Vincenzo isn’t a dom until Vincenzo tells him. And Vincenzo’s own twin sister doesn’t recognize him either.”

“That’s true.” Blaine could hear Kurt’s smile, even if he didn’t see it. “Barbara Stanwyck completely fools Henry Fonda in _The Lady Eve_ , and his character’s supposed to be a genius.”

“She was a con artist,” Blaine said. The unpleasant side of the parallel was hard to think about.

“But even though she was deceiving him, her feelings for him were real,” Kurt said, and he held Blaine tighter. “And in the end, she chooses love over the con.”

“She does,” Blaine agreed.

“Those are all good,” said Kurt. “But from here on in, we’ll make our own story.” He rolled them so Blaine was on top of him while they kissed and kissed some more.

“Kurt, you’re never going to bel- _Aaaah_!” A woman — Rachel? — screamed as she came through the curtains. Blaine rolled over and covered himself with Kurt’s blanket as quickly as he could.

“Rachel, the curtains mean _privacy_. I don’t know how many times I need to tell you this.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Kurt, but I’m here now. Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Kurt sighed dramatically. “Fine. Blaine, this is my housemate and nemesis, Rachel Berry, future Broadway legend. Rachel, meet Blaine.”

“Blaine?” Rachel said. She sounded thrilled. “This is Shakespeare class Blaine?”

Kurt looked embarrassed. “Yes, if that matters.”

“Oh, I _knew_ it!” Rachel was so delighted, and it made Blaine warm inside. He liked knowing that Kurt had talked about him enough that Rachel thought there was something between them, even when there hadn’t been yet. That she’d been rooting for them, even.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Blaine ventured. He brought his hand above the covers to wave at her.

Rachel beamed. “It’s nice to meet you too, Blaine.” She looked back over at Kurt and frowned. “Hey, are those my handcuffs?!”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe them tremendous thanks for all the chapters, but I especially need to thank my beta-readers pene and Wowbright for their help and their patience with this chapter.

“Well, it’s a heck of a story,” his dad said. Even through the fuzzy Skype connection, Kurt could sense his warmth and his amusement. “I’m happy for you, though.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“It just goes to show you. Love finds a way.”

Love. He and Blaine hadn’t actually said the word to one another yet, but since they’d slept together that first time, they’d been sort of inseparable. Lunches and dinners and a weekend at Blaine’s place while Sam was off with Mercedes. It had been all been wonderful, and even though on some rational level Kurt knew that at some point they’d fight or disagree or disappoint each other, he couldn’t imagine it yet. Blaine was more perfect than he could have dreamed, and every day Kurt found something else about him to admire and adore. Something more to love. “I guess it does.”

“So the next time you call, you’ll do it while he’s there, right? I want to meet this Blaine for myself.”

“Okay.” It was sort of terrifying, thinking about introducing Blaine to his dad, knowing that Burt Hummel would size Blaine up the way he sized up everyone. But then he was certain his dad would like Blaine, and the thought of that made Kurt feel warm and kind of liquidy inside. “He’ll be here soon, if you want to wait or call back.”

“That’s all right. I wanted a chance to talk to you in private anyhow.”

Kurt had to blink away the memory of his dad lying in the hospital, pale and still, before he could ask, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, oh yeah. Everything’s fine, buddy. I promise. I wanted to tell you — it’s kind of funny after your story. But I met someone.”

Kurt tried not to look too shocked. His dad with a new sub? If it hadn’t happened in all the years since his mom’s death, it was hard to imagine it happening now. “Uh, okay.”

“Well, it’s actually — I guess we never really had the talk, you and me. I messed that one up. But you know I go to the dominant care clinic here in town once a month since your mom passed, right?”

“Um. I guess.” If he’d ever thought about it, it probably would have been obvious. But Kurt had never let himself think about his dad having needs as a dominant: that was way too weird. “Wait, you’re not dating a clinic sub, are you?”

His father chuckled at that. “No. Believe me, I’ve been seeing the same sub there for a couple of years now and we’re friendly, but it is strictly business. No, that’s not what happened. But there’s a submissive care clinic in the same strip mall, you know the one.” Kurt nodded as his father continued. “There was this sub who I saw pretty regular in the parking lot, we had similar schedules. And one day I saw her coming out of the clinic and she looked like she maybe shouldn’t be alone just yet. So I invited her out for a cup of coffee, and things sort of went from there.”

“Wow.” Kurt didn’t know what to say. 

“We have so much in common,” his dad went on. “We both grew up here, both lost our spouses when our kids were young, and now we’re both empty nesters. She’s the kindest person I’ve met in a long time, Kurt. I think you’re really going to like her.”

“Wow,” Kurt said again, and he took a deep breath. “It’s a surprise, for sure. But I’m happy you’re happy, Dad. I can’t wait to meet...”

“Carole,” his dad said, and he got this sort of dopey look on his face. “Her name’s Carole.”

When Blaine arrived fifteen minutes later with the groceries, Kurt was still staring at his darkened laptop screen. “What’s up?” Blaine asked.

“My dad’s in love.” It still felt weird to say. 

Blaine’s eyebrows went up at the news. “He is? Wow!” He studied Kurt’s expression. “Are you okay, Kurt?”

“I guess?” Kurt closes the laptop with a shrug. “It’s just new.”

“It must be hard.”

“No. Not really. Just new.” Kurt thought about the happy, hopeful look on his dad’s face during their call. “Yeah, I guess it’s good. My dad’s in love.” It was a little easier the second time. “Must be something in the air lately.”

Blaine’s face did that thing where he didn’t really smile, but he lit up from the inside from all the smiling he wasn’t doing. “Yeah. I guess maybe there is.” Their eyes met, and Kurt was about to order him over to the couch for a makeout session. But then Blaine blinked, and the mood changed. “Oh, I forgot,” Blaine said. “Sam told me that he had good news. I think he wants to save it for dinner. I bought a bottle of sparkling wine, just in case.”

“Oh?” Kurt said, only a little disappointed. “Did he get that Gaultier campaign?”

“I guess we’ll find out.” Blaine unpacked all the groceries into the refrigerator, leaving out only the things Kurt would need for their contributions to the potluck. Blaine was on prep and cleanup duty, which made everything go more easily. So did the kisses between recipe steps, and the way Blaine nestled into him on the couch after everything was ready and the table was set. Having Blaine around made everything better.

It was only going to be five of them at dinner this week, and not surprisingly, Sam and Mercedes arrived before Rachel got home. They were both giddy with their good news, whatever it was. Mercedes brought her baked potato casserole into the kitchen for reheating, and she was practically dancing a jig as she handed Kurt the dish. “I don’t know if you’re physically capable of keeping this secret for much longer,” Kurt said. “For your health, at least, you should tell us now.”

“All right,” Mercedes said. “Come on.” She led Kurt back into the main living area, where Sam and Blaine were catching up. Sam still hadn’t even taken off his jacket. “Sweetheart?” she said as she took his hand.

“You want to tell them now?” Sam asked. When she nodded, they held up their clasped hands. Sam’s claim bracelet glinted in the light.

“We made it official!” they said together.

Kurt gasped so hard it turned into a squeak. He just couldn’t believe it. Mercedes was the last person he could have imagined claiming a sub for real, and now she’d done it, and she was beaming with happiness over it.

Kurt ran over to Mercedes and gave her the biggest hug he could. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Blaine and Sam hugging as well.

“I am so happy for you both. Oh my goodness,” Blaine said. He was practically bouncing on his feet. “Sam, show it off, show it off.” 

“Well, if you insist,” Sam grinned. He whipped off his jacket and rolled up his sleeve to give a better view of the silver bracelet. 

While the two submissives exclaimed over the claim bracelet together, Kurt just held Mercedes and looked down into her eyes. Mercedes had never wanted to get serious with a sub: she put her career first, and always talked about how the great divas used solitude to fuel their stage presence. But Sam had been so good for her, and in all honesty the music she’d made since she met him was some of her best. Sam made her a better person, just like Blaine made Kurt better too. Kurt had only thought about claim bracelets as something for the distant future, like a first anniversary or the day he asked Blaine to move in. Now he wondered if he was being too conservative.

They had already opened the wine for a toast when Rachel came in, carrying a shopping bag from Whole Foods and bottle of prosecco. “Guess who’s got good news?” she trilled.

Mercedes rolled her eyes. “She can’t even let me have this,” she muttered. Sam rubbed her arm soothingly.

“I just got a second callback for _Anything Goes_ ,” she said. “Second callback! I am telling you, I am this close to seeing my name in lights. Rachel Berry IS Reno Sweeney!” 

Kurt hadn’t thought he could get any happier. He jumped up and down, and Rachel grabbed his arms and they jumped together. Blaine applauded delightedly, and Rachel took a giddy little bow. She was so truly delighted, and it really was such good news, that even Mercedes had to hug her. 

When they’d poured out wine for everyone, Kurt raised his glass. “A toast,” he said. “To Sam and Mercedes: may they continue to make each other as happy as they are today. And to Rachel, who is one step closer to the Broadway stardom we all know she’s destined for.”

“And to Kurt and Blaine,” Rachel said, lifting her glass a little higher. “It’s been, what, two weeks now?”

“More or less,” Kurt said. Blaine bit back a smile.

“To your two weekiversary!” Sam exclaimed. “We’re all happy for you.”

“To all of us,” Blaine said, and Kurt was more than willing to drink to that.

DInner ended earlier than usual; Sam and Mercedes dashed out the door to continue their celebrations in private, and Rachel went straight to bed, declaring she needed to rest her voice. Blaine and Kurt cleaned up the last of the dinner party and then settled in on the couch to relax before bed. 

“Kurt?” 

“Yes?” Kurt had been staring out the window at the streetlamps half-visible outside. He must have zoned out for longer than he’d realized, because Blaine was looking up from inside the circle of Kurt’s arms with a mixture of amusement and concern.

“Everything okay?” Blaine asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“If I can ask... you were thinking pretty loudly there, sir.”

“You can always ask.” Kurt kissed Blaine’s forehead. “And I was thinking about Sam and Mercedes.” He’d also been thinking about how and when to claim Blaine, but that would have to stay his little secret for now.

Blaine smiled. “They’re so good together. It’s wonderful.”

“It is.”

“But?” Blaine prompted. “You’re worried?”

“No. Absolutely not. I was just thinking. Is it that different, really? Making a claim like that, with a bracelet and everything.”

Blaine just shrugged. 

“Did it feel different for you?” Kurt asked, trying not to be too obvious about why. “Did it make you feel more, I don’t know, owned or cared for, or...”

“No one’s ever offered me a claim bracelet.”

“Oh.” Kurt was stunned. “I’m sorry. I guess I assumed...”

Blaine pulled away enough to sit up straight on the couch. He looked ahead, not meeting Kurt’s eye. “It’s okay. I dated in high school, a few guys, but...” He shrugged in a bad imitation of nonchalance. “They never asked. I guess we weren’t that serious.”

The idea that any dominant could have had Blaine in his arms and not wanted to claim him as his own was almost too much for Kurt to wrap his head around. He wanted to hate them for not prizing his boy the way he deserved, for leaving him embarrassed and a little dejected. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “You’re so experienced and comfortable with who you are, I guess I just assumed.”

Blaine looked sad. “It was my job at the clinic to make you feel comfortable. You needed that from me and I — I liked being that guy, the one who knew what to do next. But really, I don’t.”

“I think that’s supposed to be my job now,” Kurt said as gently as he could.

“I’ve never been in a relationship that got really serious, Kurt. I don’t want to disappoint you.” 

Blaine’s mood had changed so quickly, Kurt was scrambling to keep up. “I can’t imagine you’ll will ever disappoint me. But if you do...”

“When,” Blaine said.

“Okay. When.” He took Blaine’s head in his hands and forced him to look directly in his eyes. Blaine looked sad, and Kurt was responsible. Kurt had made him feel unready and unsure. He’d had no idea. “When you disappoint me, or disobey me, I’ll handle it. But you’re the one I want to handle it with.” 

“It’s just, at the clinic I had something I could teach you. I can’t teach you anything else now. What if I’m not enough?”

“You do, Blaine. You teach me every day.” Blaine looked skeptical, and Kurt gave him the most reassuring and confident smile he could muster. “You teach me how to be your dom. What you need, what you like. I mean, I learned some of that at the clinic, but it’s different here, when it’s just us being us. For example, I’m learning that you worry even when there’s nothing to worry about.” 

“Sir...”

“I’m learning what you react to and what makes you happy and when you need to be taken down. Like maybe now, hm?” 

Blaine nodded, surprised and grateful. 

“Okay, sweetheart.” Kurt relaxed. He’d guessed right. “Kneel for me?”

Blaine knelt at Kurt’s feet, his head in Kurt’s lap, and Kurt could feel some of the worry melt out of his sub’s frame. He put his hand on the back of Blaine’s neck and held him there with just enough of a squeeze. It always seemed to work, and sure enough Blaine’s whole demeanor slowly shifted to happy and content and pliant again. Kurt sat there with him, holding him down and occasionally stroking his hair. The sounds of the city went by outside. Rachel’s white noise machine whirred in her corner of the apartment.

Blaine had been worried, and Kurt hadn’t even noticed. That felt worse than a fight or disobedience. He sighed and looked down at the boy kneeling beside him. Maybe it wasn’t always going to be easy to be Blaine’s dominant. But he was absolutely going to love Blaine through every beautiful difficult moment.

After a while, Blaine started to shift his weight a bit, a cue that he’d started coming back to himself. Kurt tickled him behind his ear until he grinned and pulled away.

“Feeling better?”

Blaine nodded. 

“Good. Come back here.” And Blaine came willingly back into Kurt’s embrace.

“Kurt. I want you to know,” Blaine said earnestly. “I’ve learned so much from you too. Maybe I haven’t said it enough, but I have. Being with you, it’s already so much more than I expected. More than it was back in high school or at the clinic.”

“Well,” Kurt said, trying for a joke, “I am so much more of a dom than any of those guys were.”

Blaine smiled at him, amused and fond. “I love you,” he said.

Kurt’s heart was in his throat. “I love you too.” He met Blaine’s eyes, giddy with having said the words at last. When they kissed, everything was as easy as it had been before. 

“Thank you,” Blaine said.

“You don’t need to thank me,” said Kurt. “But, speaking of which, I do have something for you.” He’d been thinking about it while Blaine knelt. Everything since had only made him more sure that now was the right time. He went into his bedroom for the carefully wrapped gift he’d hidden away.

“What’s this?” Blaine asked, even though it was pretty obviously book-shaped.

“I found it at a bookstore. I was saving it for a special occasion, but I guess telling you I love you counts as special.”

“Yeah,” Blaine said. His smile was easy and open. “I guess it does.” 

Kurt watched him as he unwrapped the package. Inside was a white textbook with its title in blocky blue lettering: _Intermediate Dominance_. There was a blue line drawing of a cat o’ nine tails below it. 

“Brand new,” Kurt said. “No drawings in any of the margins until you add them yourself.”

Blaine ran his fingers over the cover. “Wow. I didn’t even know there was a second volume.” 

“I was thinking,” Kurt said. He took Blaine’s hand and wound his fingers between Blaine’s. “Maybe while we’re looking for the perfect claim bracelet for you...” Blaine looked up at him wide-eyed, and clung more tightly to his fingers. “We could work our way through this book too. Like we did with the other one.”

“More for us to learn,” Blaine said. He looked dazed and happy and excited.

“Together,” said Kurt. He pulled Blaine close. The kiss was deep and claiming, and Kurt felt like he could keep kissing Blaine forever.


End file.
